Wanted: Criminal Dynasty
by ElizabethLestrade
Summary: Moriarty has built a legacy. Now, he wants that legacy to become a dynasty. The problem? He has no heir. But this is the Napoleon of Crime. The Lord has granted him health and strength...he'll steal the rest. By any means necessary. R/R!
1. Chapter 1

**Authors Note: **Sherlock Holmes in the 22nd Century is owned by DIC. Sherlock Holmes and Professor James Moriarty are owned by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Beth Lestrade is owned by DIC as is John Watson the 2nd.

I've had this idea floating around in my head for a few days now, and I'm finally ready to put it to paper. It is an…odd premise, I'll grant you; however, I wanted something that someone has not attempted before. I hope you enjoy it, and please, if you 'fave' me, which I love and appreciate, please leave me a review telling me why you thought this story was good enough to 'fave'!

**Authors Warning: **As of right now, I am not positive on the maturity level of this particular adventure. It is safe to say however, that it deals with some serious subject matter, and that it is not to be taken lightly. You should have a pretty good idea of where this story is going and what the story is going to entail by the end of the first chapter. Therefore, due to the subject matter that I know will be involved just from the first chapter alone, I'll rate this story 'Teen' for now.

**Wanted: Criminal Dynasty**

Beth's eyes were normally a light indigo color. This was a color that was indicative of her normal state of mind and mood. Generally, it meant she was of normal cheer; there were no obvious strains on her mental or emotional stability, she was physically well…

At present, her eyes had taken on a dangerous bloody purple, an almost dark plum color. Mental, emotional, and physical stress were all accounted for in copious amounts when her iris morphed into this particular shade. There wasn't much in Lestrade's life that could shake her to her core, but what she'd just heard with her own ears and witnessed with her own eyes was mostly certainly a step in the right direction for whoever had the need and desire to push her off the deep end.

Sitting across from her was a man of about 40, she should say. In all actuality, age wasn't really an issue with him; 40 or 240, he was of a particular breed that could be snuffed out and brought back at the whim of any intelligent and learned geneticist. His hair was mostly black, save for the two streaks of cloud white that flew through the sides of his head. A full beard covered his chin and jaw line while eagle like blue eyes pierced her very soul, and in so doing, made her feel incredibly violated. He was still smiling, as though what he'd just requested of her was an easy task, doable in 24 hours with no pain.

"Moriarty," she finally ground out, "I think you've finally lost your mind. Or your original's mind, whichever one of you is up there doing the thinking, or lack thereof, because you cannot seriously believe that I would _ever _consider taking on that kind of a request from the likes of you."

"But think of the merit's, my dear-"

"Call me 'your dear again', and I will rip your head off your shoulders and fashion your skull into a decorative fruit bowli, clone head!"

Well. That certainly seemed to have gotten the professor's attention, for the smile that had been playing upon his features disappeared entirely, and with the forward motion of two of his fingers, four men who Lestrade assumed to be his body guards came out of the wood work. One placed himself at a table next to the couple, one leaned against the fence surrounding the outer terrace of the café, and two positioned themselves at both an entrance and exit, one to each.

"It really is a shame the school's in your age don't teach etiquette, Miss. Lestrade, for you are sorely in need of a few lessons." James Moriarty took a sip of the coffee that he'd ordered quite cavalierly earlier and locked his eyes with her once more. "As much as it pains me to have to admit, Fenwick cannot continue to create clones of me for his entire life. I need a true heir to all my work, someone I can train and teach and mold to carry on after I am gone-"

"Which will hopefully be very soon," Lestrade seethed, clenching her hands together under the table. Damn it for not bringing her ionizer! Public place or no, she could have had at least two of the criminals wrapped up in a jiffy, at the very least she could attempt to make an escape. That however, was not possible presently.

"-and I can't trust just any woman to assist me in this matter," the criminal continued, crossing his legs at the knee and placing one hand on the table, leaving the other conspicuously out of sight. Beth knew where the other one was, and what it was holding; she needed to get out of here. "So, you see…I am in a bit of a jam. I want a child, preferably a male, to carry on my name, but I have no wife to tend to that duty. So, I come to you, dear Lestrade." Beth wanted slap the smirk off Moriarty's face, but she didn't dare move. Instead, she leaned forward and said only one word, and it was as definite and final as any answer she'd ever given in her life.

"No."

"No?" Moriarty smiled. So did Lestrade.

"You heard me. I can't even believe that you would think I would be inclined to help you out with your little problem. I hate you, I hate everything you stand for, why, oh _why_ would I bring a child into the world that would be exposed to you and your criminal empire?"

A stalemate ensued, with Moriarty calmly looking over Lestrade's very _un-_calm one. Finally, he cleared his throat and snapped his fingers. The lackey that had been standing at the entrance to the patio came to attention and was immediately by his boss's side, leaning down and listening carefully to what he was being told. Beth watched intently as the man stood straight again and moved back to his original position.

"I feel obliged to tell you that unless you agree to leave with me, willingly and quietly, Mr. Stephens will take some violent liberties with the rather nice looking family sitting in the corner over there."

Lestrade paled considerably as Moriarty continued on. "It would be no large matter for him to follow them home and pay them a visit. The child would find him especially entertaining, I'm sure."

Beth tucked a stray hair behind her ear and rested her chin on the heel of her hand, clearing her throat as she pondered her options. The criminal would make good on his threat, she had no doubt of that. It was nothing to him to take a few lives, so long as he got what he wanted in the end. The tales of adventure Holmes would recite to her proved that point quite aptly. But she couldn't take part in this scheme of his; it was disgusting, unreal, the idea of having Moriarty's child literally left the taste of vomit in her mouth just thinking about it. But, as she looked across the table and swallowed nervously, she knew that, presently, she had no choice but to go with him, at least _appear_ as though she were cooperating.

"Are you finished?"

Lestrade nodded.

"Good." Moriarty raised his hand for the check and the server brought it by. Lestrade reached for her credit card, but Moriarty had already placed his own (or someone else's, Beth was certain), on it. "Don't be silly, Inspector. For the service you will do me, the least I can do is treat you to a lunch, wouldn't you agree?" She didn't answer as the waiter came by once more to pick up the card, only to bring it back in under a minute. She could feel the triumph radiating off of her enemy as he stood and beckoned her to do the same. A few minutes later, she was being ushered into the professor's hover car. Two of the thugs sat up front, separated from the back seat by a partition. The other two henchmen followed in another hover vehicle a small distance behind them. The inspector cleared her throat.

"So, how exactly is this going to work?"

"I assume your parents gave you the 'birds and the bee's' talk, yes?"

Lestrade grimaced and looked out the window, resolving that she would indeed kill herself before lying with Moriarty in such an intimate way.

"Yes, I can see they have." James paid her no mind as he continued to watch her out of the corner of his eye, quite relaxed in his currently seated position. "Not to worry, Lestrade, I would never think of defiling you in such a manner. I merely want an heir, not a bed mate. I can get that elsewhere, and frankly, with much less of an argument than you would give me, though I have no doubt were you and I to copulate, it would be a rather frenzied coupling."

_Not frenzied for the reasons you're thinking, buddy_, Lestrade thought to herself as she turned her gaze on him. "In vitro?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"You want to fertilize me, keep me under lock and key for nine months, and then have me raise the child with you?"

Moriarty tsked. "No, no, no, no, no, Lestrade, you misunderstand. The procedure will be very simple. I will simply gather the egg I need from you, fertilize it with my sperm, and then, once the embryo is ready, place it in the womb of another woman, whom I actually can keep under lock and key. And you will be free to go, live your life as it were."

There was a moment of silence in the car. "Why me then? Why not just use the other woman's egg, why do you need me?"

"Because of the genes, Lestrade, the genes!" Moriarty shifted towards her a little more, engaging with her, or at least trying to. Beth moved as far away as she could get without hopping out of the window. At present though that idea was sounding more appealing by the minute. "Can you imagine a child of our conception? There is a reason you were made an inspector at 25 years of age. You are smart, capable, strong, you have very nearly caught me once or twice, though don't ever tell Sherlock Holmes that, it may severely hurt his ego."

"He _has_ actually caught you a couple times, Moriarty; I think his ego is safely intact."

"Be that as it may, your intelligence, your creativity, your ability to think quickly and efficiently…those are the things that attract you to me as a donor. Not to mention that, if this child turns out to be female, she will be able to use her considerable beauty to her advantage as well; no doubt the best of the looks she would receive would be from her mother."

Lestrade blinked. Did he just compliment her?

"There is of course, one other reason, and that should be fairly simple for you to figure out, Inspector." Lestrade waited patiently, unconsciously clasping her hands together tighter and tighter as an all too familiar glint appeared brightly in her captor's eye.

"Were you and I to conceive a child together, it would utterly destroy Holmes. It would bring him to the brink of madness to know that one day, in the distant future, he would have to combat _your _offspring." The professor chuckled. "Can you imagine the position it would put him in? Do you think he could apprehend your own son or daughter and bring him or her to you for their lawful punishment?"

To Beth, Moriarty's words seemed muffled, from another world. _Genes my ass! He's just using me to get to Sherlock!_ And yet, Moriarty was dead on with his analysis. For all the work Holmes did to hide his true emotions and thoughts, Lestrade knew it would cause him an incredible amount of pain and suffering to go after a child of her own…a young man or woman that, by all rights, if things continued as they were, _should_ be his as well.

But that wasn't something Moriarty needed to be made aware of just yet, if ever. The inspector and the criminal mastermind continued the flight in silence, Moriarty gloating, and Lestrade just barely managing to keep her wits about her, for the further away from the main city they flew, the more disheartened Beth became.

**Wanted: Criminal Dynasty**

Without signaling his arrival, Holmes punched in the general access code to Grayson's office and swept in, Watson hot on his heels as he stalked up to the desk and leaned over it, placing both his hands on the unforgiving steel as the Chief Inspector of New Scotland Yard looked up.

"Inspector Lestrade has not reported for her shift this morning, is that correct?"

"It is," Grayson stood up and walked around the desk to punch the panel controlling the sliding door closed and turned to face Holmes and Watson, his arms crossed over his chest. "We've located her hover craft at a small café called Tea Leaf in the Garden Sector. I have a team over there interviewing the staff and watching security footage to see when she was there."

Holmes tapped his chin with a finger, his eyes crinkling in concentration. "There was no one released from prison recently that Inspector Lestrade had apprehended that would have done been able to do this." At Grayson's questioning look, Holmes shrugged. "She would have said something on the subject if that were the case."

"Who would want to kidnap Inspector Lestrade?" Watson mused, looking out the rather large window that took up almost an entire wall of Grayson's office. "More importantly, who could have done it? Inspector Lestrade isn't a woman that would let just _anyone_ take her, and in plain sight?"

"No," Holmes agreed, his mind flying to an assumption but choosing not to voice it yet. "No, she was taken against her will, but she had no other choice but to cooperate. Her hover-car was found at a café which suggests she was in public when she was abducted, but felt the need to keep her silence about her." He stole a glance at Grayson again. "Was an ionizer found nearby?"

The plump man shook his head and Holmes harrumphed. "Meaning she didn't have one on her yesterday."

"How do you come to that conclusion, Holmes?"

"Elementary, my dear Watson; if Lestrade had an ionizer on her person, she would have felt more inclined to take a stand and resist her captors. As it is, her hover craft was found with no ionizer in it, and unless I am very much mistaken, which I don't believe that I am, the investigators at the Tea Leaf are finding that there were no altercations at the café yesterday, which leads me to believe that Lestrade was not armed, and our antagonist or antagonists either were, or were too plentiful for her to have possibly escaped."

Silence loomed over the office, each of them mulling over the possibilities until the quiet was broken by an incoming audio message. Grayson crossed to the desk, read the I.D. on the call, and tapped a few buttons. "Constable Kramer, report."

"Sir, we've completed our investigation at the café. Inspector Lestrade was here between 1:00pm and 1:45pm yesterday and was seen sitting with an older man with dark hair, a fairly muscular build, and dressed in non-modern clothing. It appears that there were at least two other men in his company. All three men were seen leaving with Inspector Lestrade."

Grayson looked up at Holmes who was staring through the transmitter on the desk as though he were zeroing in on a target. "Is all of that verified by security?"

"Yes, Chief, security cameras were all up and running at the time. We have two good angles of the Inspector and the man she was sitting with, as well as a clear shot of two of the men who left with her."

"Constable, this is Sherlock Holmes," the detective broke in, ignoring the rather annoyed expression that materialized almost instantly on the Chief Inspectors face. "When did you start with New Scotland Yard?" There was a rather pregnant pause on the other end of the line, and even Grayson raised his eyebrows. "Two months ago next week, Sir," came the slightly startled answer. Holmes nodded his head and continued. "I'm not sure if you have ever seen me, Constable-"

"I have, Sir."

"Excellent, then answer me this; this man who was sitting with Lestrade…was his dress of a similar fashion to mine?"

"Yes, Sir, he seemed to have your…flare for clothing, if you will."

Holmes traded a look with an alarmed Watson and nodded his head, heading for the door. "Chief Inspector, if I were you, I would begin by identifying who those other men were with Moriarty."

"And what will you be doing in the mean time, Holmes? And how did you know that Constable Kramer hadn't been with the NSY for long?"

"As to the second question, anyone in New Scotland Yard who doesn't know who Professor James Moriarty is on sight cannot have been with the service for long. In regards to the first question…" Holmes waved Watson on, as he turned around to gaze at the Chief Inspector, "I will also be working on the identification of Moriarty's henchmen. Once I know who they are, I shall know where to find them. Once I find them, I will know how to find Lestrade."

i This is a quote from episode 16 of season 6 of The West Wing entitled 'Drought Conditions'. I could very easily hear Lestrade saying this to Moriarty.


	2. Chapter 2

**Authors Note:** And here we have chapter two! I am not lacking in idea's for this story by any means, however, if there is a particular event, conversation, thought, etc. that you would like one of the characters to perform, give me a private message, and we'll see if we can't work it in, or something like it.

**Wanted: Criminal Dynasty**

"So, what's to stop me from escaping from this remarkable little paradise you've created for yourself here?" Lestrade crossed her arms as she was led into a rather large mansion, the early morning sun beaming through the stain glass windows of the manor. She remembered very little from the previous day, only the obvious. She'd been taken from her rather comfortable lunch by the infamous Professor James Moriarty, brought to a safe house for the night where he'd drugged her, and then woken up on the way to this place. Lestrade was not a morning person on the best of days, and considering this morning was quite possibly one of the worst she'd ever experienced, she was in quite the sour mood.

"Only that there is no transportation but the mode which we have left outside," Moriarty grinned as they stepped into the rather large foyer of the Tudor Style home, "this particular headquarters of mine is somewhat remote. There are no neighbors around for miles; perfect for those who love the country side setting to raise a family, don't you agree?"

Beth didn't answer as she looked around. The entrance was fairly ornate. Suits of armor in the guise of knights decorated the perimeter of the walls. Three chandeliers hung from thick ropes attached to their hooks embedded in the thick stone walls of the room. The stair case in front of them was draped in red carpet. Lestrade noticed the softness of it beneath her feet as she continued to follow Moriarty through the room to the right.

"This home used to belong to the Dukes of Suffolk, did you know that?" The professor led her down the corridor. "From the early Plantagenet Kings all the way up through the Tudor Dynasty…to the age of Victoria herself. A marvelous place, don't you think? Here is their sigil…" he pointed to a coat of arms hanging on the wall and stopped to admire it for a moment. Four golden crosses graced the coat while a fiery griffin danced on its hind legs, one in the upper left corner, one in the lower right. Red and white stripes stripped across the background.

Lestrade was not impressed.

"Did you bring me here for a tour, Moriarty?"

"I thought that I should give you one, for the one that I will be taking later." James chuckled to himself as he walked on, the men that were with him giving Beth a small shove to encourage her to follow. Wrapping her arms around herself, she moved, slowly and stiffly.

"You really shouldn't worry about the procedure, Inspector. It will be very quick, with little to no pain what so ever. I have a fully equipped medical facility within the bowels of this mansion."

Lestrade stopped almost as soon as she started again and glared at him. "How can you be so cavalier about this? Do you even have any concept of what it is you're making me to do?"

"Of course I do, otherwise I wouldn't have brought you here!" Moriarty turned to her, that glint that she was so used to seeing coming back into his eyes. It was the look that emitted complete control over the situation. That did not bode well for her at all. "You'll find it easier than you think, Inspector. After all, your egg by itself only _potential_ life. I will be the one actually creating it. You won't miss a thing, that's a fact; you have thousands more just waiting to be chosen. I'm only taking one, so let's not be selfish."

"You-!" Lestrade leapt at him, delivering a swift punch to his jaw and reeling back to give another before she felt her face hitting the cold hard wood floor. Moriarty's men had put her to the floor, and it hadn't felt good. She grunted, trying to struggle against them but eventually stilled her movements when she saw Moriarty step in front of her eyes and kneel down. "Careful, careful," he chided them, sliding a hand underneath her chin and tipping it upwards to look her in the eyes, "we don't want to hurt her before the goods are claimed, do we?"

**Wanted: Criminal Dynasty**

Watson observed Holmes from across the room, as he'd been doing for the past 20 minutes. Since they'd left Grayson's office that morning, the detective had retreated to his rooms at 221b Baker Street to begin his research. For five and a half hours, he'd been seated in front of the computer monitor, replaying over and over and over again the clips of Lestrade's abduction. He'd placed digital face enhancement sensors on each of the men that he didn't recognize and entered their configurations into the identifier system that Beth had installed especially on the computer for him. Now, all he was waiting for was a hit, but he wasn't waiting and being idle.

While the check ran in the background, Holmes ran a search on the known hide outs that Moriarty had used in the past and ran their amenities and likeness's to other places that would provide and suit his purposes just the same. He reviewed past cases that Moriarty had been involved in, took the liberty to check Lestrade's personal mail in hopes that some threat or message may have been sent to her, giving him a clue as to why she'd been taken. That search proved useless.

"You have not eaten since last night," Watson remarked as he clomped over to stand just behind him.

Holmes didn't answer him. Watson looked to the ceiling, silently asking for some kind of inspiration. "Holmes, you're no good to Beth if you starve while looking for her."

"Then bring me something if you must, Watson, otherwise if you haven't noticed, I'm otherwise engaged with trying to get her back!"

Had Holmes spoken like that to anyone else, all they'd have heard was the frustration in his voice at having been interrupted in his work. But Watson, even though he wasn't the original, wasn't just anyone. Where someone less knowledgeable would hear annoyance and haughtiness, Watson heard the tight tone of fear, determination, the desperate need to find the woman he'd been seeing socially for over a year now. His greatest fear was coming true right before his eyes, Watson knew. For the Holmes of old, one of the many reasons he'd refused romantic companionship while he was a practicing detective, and even after, was that he did not want to put a lover at risk for the jobs he performed. The best way to get to a man was through his heart. Holmes understood that very well, which was why he always kept it closely guarded and closed off.

Now however, those doors had been opened.

"We will find her, Holmes," Watson gently placed his hands on the seated mans shoulders and squeezed reassuringly. "He'll not harm her. She's far too valuable for him to do so." He watched and felt Holmes slump slightly. "He won't harm her physically, Watson," came his dejected voice, "but you and I both know that the deepest wounds are usually found beneath the skin, in places we cannot see."

"She has a strong spirit, Holmes," Watson retorted, "anything Moriarty has planned for her, she will more than be able to live through. She has many times in the past faced him and come out unscathed. I expect this time will be no different."

"Why does he want her?" Holmes murmured, eyes fixed on the faces of the henchmen on the monitor. "What could he possibly gain from taking her? To get to me? No, he wouldn't be that petty. The man knows where I live, he's sat in my living room before-"

"And he doesn't know of your relationship with the Inspector," Watson pointed out, stepping back as Holmes rose from his chair to stretch his legs. "Quite right," was Sherlock's answer, continuing to gaze at the shot in front of him. "No, there will be only one way for me to obtain the answers I need."

Watson waited.

"I shall need to visit the Underground and look up some old friends of Moriarty."

"But which disguise would you be able to don for someone to give you a clue as to what Moriarty may want with Inspector Lestrade?"

Holmes finally set his eyes on his friend and gave him a tight smile. "None; I will go on my own, as myself. No costumes, no get-ups, no sneaky disguises…"

"I feel I must advise against that, old friend." Watson knew his friend was worried sick about his lover, but Holmes going down into the pits of the seedy criminal world of New London and possibly never coming up again had to be last resort. This had always been a problem with Holmes, these high risk maneuvers of his, except now, the motive was entirely different than it had ever been before, and Watson knew, from watching the actions of many men whose significant others had been in danger, that the adventure was just beginning with Sherlock Holmes.

"Duly noted, Watson; you're coming along then?"

What was the compudroid to do but smile and nod. "Of course."

**Wanted: Criminal Dynasty**

With each altercation she had with him, Beth was beginning to wonder if James Moriarty was so insane that he actually came off competent. Currently, she was in a rather large bed chamber of the manor, and outside, as Moriarty had promised right before he'd left her, were two men standing guard, partially to ensure her comfort, and mostly to be certain she didn't escape. Their presence wasn't stopping her mind from trying to come up with different get away plans though.

The first thing she'd done after she'd been left alone was to run to the window and see if she could break the glass and jump out. Alas, as she glanced down at the rocky terrain below, she surmised she had to be at least five stories high, and if she'd jumped, she would have almost certainly been killed, if not severely injured, possibly to the point of being paralyzed. As anxious as she was to get away before Moriarty could 'harvest' her, breaking her legs, back, or neck was not going to help her situation.

Next, she'd spent the next hour or two investigating every brick in the room, pushing, pulling, and feeling along the creases for any mechanism that might have unlocked a secret passage way or trap door. But, after being at it for quite some time, she came to the conclusion that Moriarty had chosen this room for the express reason of it not being accessible through a little known stair way behind the book case, or some such similar circumstance.

The idea of ventilation came to mind afterwards. It may have been a manor that was over 500 years old, but many old castles and mansions had come under the protection of the New London Royal Historical Society, and in performing the renovations and restorations of such mansions, had added modern day insulation, ventilation, and had even wired many of them for electrical use. Unfortunately for Lestrade, there were no vents that were near big enough for her to shimmy through.

Now, as she sat on the four poster canopy bed laden with expensive sheets and comforters and soft, plush pillows piled at the headboard, Lestrade couldn't help the feeling of panic that was beginning to well up in the bottom of her stomach. She found herself wishing that she'd caused a scene at the café the previous afternoon, but then remembered the young family that would have been sacrificed if she had. That hadn't been a cost she'd wanted to pay then, and she knew that she would never forgive herself if she'd negated Moriarty's warning.

Beth stole a glance at the window once more. The sun was beginning to set, meaning it must have been after 5:30pm. She had been in this room since early that morning, placed there after her little outburst with Moriarty. The knuckles on her right hand were still sore; Lestrade knew that she'd not been given any ice or dressing as a punishment on Moriarty's behalf. That was fine. She could throw a left hook as well as she could a right. It made no difference to her.

After she'd exhausted her attempts to try to find a way out of the room, she'd tried to sleep, but that hadn't yielded any fruit either. Moriarty had told her she wouldn't be bothered until it was time for supper, so she'd tried to get some natural rest rather than the tranquilizer induced one that had been forced on her the previous night, but to no avail. When she closed her eyes, she could see one of two things. The first, which was not so pleasant and definitely not something she could fall asleep to, was an image of a young man, medium to dark brown hair, blue eyes that would match his fathers, a sly mouth that Beth knew had to have come from her and her alone…the idea that she was picturing what a child of hers and Moriarty's would look like sickened her to no end, and she very nearly threw up the first few times the images crept into her mind.

But then, the nausea was abated by another picture…no, memories, really; flashes of her meeting Sherlock for the first time, remembering the glee and gratefulness when he finally accepted the droid Watson as a true friend and confidant. She could still remember the first time he'd kissed her, standing in the rain outside his flat. They'd just had a disagreement about a case. She'd thought one way on the matter, he'd thought the other. Beth had gotten so close to him that her lips very nearly brushed his as they rapidly moved, punctuating her point precisely. It was around the part where she'd asked Holmes what he thought of her stance in somewhat of a haughty, condescending way that he'd taken her gently around the waist and, to "silence her for a few moments" he'd said, kissed her as gently as the morning dew sat upon a blade of grass. She'd been so shocked she hadn't known how to respond, and Holmes, true to form, only smirked, tipped his head to her and bade her good night, leaving her to fish for her hover-car identifier in the storm as he'd sauntered up the steps, very pleased with himself.

That had been the beginning of many a teenage girls fantasy come true. She never thought it would happen, but, low and behold, it had, and she was as content with him as she'd ever been in her life. Watson even went so far as to call her the new 'The Woman', but Lestrade had only shrugged it off.

Now, as the sun continued to set on a glittering horizon, Beth hoped that Holmes, for all is intellectual ingenuity and genius would find her, and find her soon. She knew he wouldn't have much to go on. But then again, this was Sherlock Holmes; what was of little consequence to most people could mean the entire case to him. At the moment, she was the worst possible thing a woman could be in her mind; she was the very picture of a damsel in distress. The only thing she was lacking was a royal gown and the long hair with which her prince could climb up to rescue her.

A knock came at the door and Beth hopped up off the bed, putting it between her and the entrance. The door opened and in walked the two men that she presumed had been keeping watch on the outside. "You're to come with us," one of them said, motioning for her to follow them. Lestrade stood her ground.

"I'm to do a lot of things," she retorted, "If you ask most anyone who knows me, you'll figure out pretty quickly that most of those things don't get done."

"And if you ask me, you'll find that I couldn't care less what you think you'll do and not do. The boss says you're coming to dinner, so whether or not you walk or we carry you, you're gonna wind up down there sooner or later."

Lestrade slid one of her feet back and put her arms up, a classic defensive stance set up in almost a split second.

"Give it your best shot."


	3. Chapter 3

**Authors Note:** Hola, hola! Wow, thanks for the reviews guys! It's nice to know when your work is appreciated! Here, obviously, we have chapter three. I hope you enjoy it as much as the previous two, possibly even more. I love the feedback, keep it coming!

**Wanted: Criminal Dynasty**

Moriarty wasn't sure whether to chuckle or yell bloody murder at the sight that stood before him.

Two of his men, his body guards, men that were supposed to protect him from any harmful presence had just come down to the main dining hall of the mansion, and they looked much worse now than they had when he'd sent them up to Beth Lestrade's room to fetch her for supper.

"Stephens…" Moriarty leaned back in his chair, "explain, please."

"We…we went to get the lady just as you said, Professor," the man called Stephens continued to shift from one foot to the other. Moriarty thought that he just might be sick from watching him move to and fro in such a way. "She uh…she didn't want to come down."

The professor tapped his chin and pointed at the both of them. "That much is obvious." Sliding his chair back, he rose and tossed his napkin on the table. "Get cleaned up, the both of you. You look ridiculous." He left them standing in the dining hall as he crossed the foyer and headed down the corridor towards his 'guests' room.

He didn't bother knocking before opening the door, and what greeted him was rather shocking. In the woman's attempt to avoid being taken to dinner, she had created quite the mess in her quarters. The vanity was lying on its side, a chair leg missing from the seating apparatus. The mirror was intact but separated from the vanity it had originally been attached to. Pillows lay strewn about the floor, the doors to the wardrobe were wide open, and with Moriarty's attention to detail never missing a beat, he noticed that the dresser had been moved almost a foot to the right of where it had originally been placed.

Standing in the middle of the mess was his Inspector, readying herself for another attack. "At ease, Miss. Lestrade. If you didn't want to eat, all you had to do was tell them so."

"I did," she growled out, "I just decided to tell them physically rather than verbally."

"You really should watch that temper of yours," Moriarty entered the room fully and closed the door softly, crossing his arms as he stood in front of it, ensuring she wouldn't go anywhere. He sighed. "You will make this much easier on yourself if you simply allow the inevitable to occur."

Beth said nothing.

"I shall give you the itinerary, if you so desire." Moriarty paused for a moment to let her speak if she wished, but it seemed her desire at present was to keep silent, and so he pressed on. "Tomorrow morning, you will be served breakfast, and whether you like it here or down stairs in the formal dining hall is neither here nor there, you _will_ eat it. Most of the day will be for you to do as you please in your room. Should you like anything to read or watch within reason, it will be brought to you. I have contracted a physician to arrive here late tomorrow afternoon for you to meet. He is a fully licensed medical doctor and he will be here to give you a physical."

Beth quirked an eyebrow, though never taking her eyes off the man before her, and not relaxing her stance for even a moment. "What for?"

"Well, I'm sure you will understand the need to ensure your complete health before we continue any further with the procedure."

"There won't _be_ any procedure, Moriarty," Lestrade narrowed her eyes. "The second your men step back in this room is the second the gloves come off. I sent them back to you with a couple of black eyes and bloody noses. Next time, you're going to have to carry them out in body bags."

"Elizabeth," Moriarty put his hands in his pockets and walked towards her, "must I remind you that you are currently hundreds of miles away from New London, with no hope of anyone finding you, trapped in a mansion of which I know every nook and cranny, and have more body guards at my disposal than just the four you saw yesterday?" He stopped a couple feet in front o f her and looked at the bed, smirking. Languidly, he eased himself on the mattress and folded his hands on his lap regarding her quietly, as she did him.

"Perhaps there's another way I can make you see reason."

Lestrade spat out a laugh. "I doubt it."

"Do you?" James shrugged. "Just because we're far from New London doesn't mean I don't have ways to communicate with the people I have there. Many are old friends of mine, some of them are lackey's, others are simply criminals and despots whom I have yet to meet, but they all have one thing in common; they hate Sherlock Holmes."

_That_ got her attention. She leveled her gaze at him, and even though the anger on her face grew more, he could see a glimmer of nervousness there now as well. "They can't stand him," he continued, standing up and stalking toward her slowly. Beth stood firm. "Can you imagine how many felons would love the chance for an open season holiday on the detective? I'm fairly well off, Miss. Lestrade; I could make it worth their while."

Beth swallowed down the fresh wave of nausea that hit her with that statement; never the less she forced herself to speak without a waver in her voice. "If Holmes had the choice of having your henchmen come after him or watch me help you conceive a child against my will, I think you and I both know which one he'd choose."

"But he's not here to make that choice," Moriarty murmured softly. He was so close to her she could smell him. Whereas before her eyes had been fastened on his, they were now looking straight at his neck, as though if she didn't look at him directly, she could hide the fear that was beginning to pop up again. She felt fingers touch her throat softly and immediately jerked away, but Moriarty was faster. Before she knew it, her back was against one of the posts of the bed, Moriarty's hand was placed firmly around her throat and his other was busy keeping her free arm back and away from him.

"You are." He bit out, his mouth grazing her ear as she struggled best as she could against him, but one solid pull and press against her throat knocked her head lightly into the post and she stilled her movements for the moment. "I am asking for something very small, something that you would probably have never even thought about had I not come along. The doctor will be here tomorrow night to administer a full physical to you, and since I already know that you are in excellent health, we will commence with the harvest the following morning, after which, I will give you a mild sedative to put you to sleep and you will be home the day after tomorrow. This is how quickly I can move things along, Inspector."

He pulled away and watched her as she caught her breath, rasping as she rubbed her throat of his touch. "If you continue to be a hindrance, I can keep you here indefinitely and get what I want by other methods." He could feel the woman's eyes glaring daggers into his back as he walked back towards the door. He put his hand on the knob, turned back to her and fixed his glare on hers.

"And just so we understand each other Elizabeth, the other methods _would_ involve you staying 'under lock and key' for nine months." He took his leave of her with that message, not seeing her sink to the floor beside the bed and resting her head on it. It wasn't until the door was closed that she promptly threw up.

**Wanted: Criminal Dynasty**

Holmes sat quietly in the corner of a rundown bar, sipping on some kind of foul drink that he'd thought would at least taste acceptable while he listened in on the conversations around him. In the end, he was glad Watson had talked him out of coming down here without a disguise. That really had been a stupid idea on his part, and he didn't have many stupid ideas. In fact, if someone asked him when the last time was he'd had a stupid idea, he honestly wouldn't have been able to give an answer. When he'd said as much to Watson, his friend had just smiled.

"And now you do," he answered.

As he sat there, John Watson was positioned in their coach craft outside. Many of the bars and saloons in the Underground did not allow droids into their establishments, which suited the compu-droid just fine. He did not like seedy places as they made him nervous, and was much more comfortable with sitting outside and watching who went in and who came out.

So far, Holmes hadn't seen any of Moriarty's normal contract criminals. He'd observed a fair amount of prostitutes, disgruntled teens angry at the world, and probable gang members, but as far as seeing any familiar faces that were known to associate with the good professor, the detective was hitting a dead end.

So far.

As he brought his glass up to his lips again, he spoke softly into his communicator, taking care to hide his mouth, though his lips were barely moving. "Anyone outside we may know, Watson?"

"No one, Holmes," came the whispered reply. "I am keeping a very close eye on the entrance, but I've recognized no one."

"Alright. Five more minutes, and then I'll come out and head to our next location."

"Acknowledged."

Holmes' eyes pierced each corner of the room he was in, examining closely the faces that were smiling, laughing, and obviously drunk. How anyone could get inebriated so early in the evening was beyond him, but he wasn't about to ask questions. Alcohol was his best friend in this circumstance, for it was a substance that made some people blabber about the most sensitive of subjects.

Unfortunately, either no one was drunk enough in this particular bar, or there was no one of interest here for him. After five minutes, he placed his glass on the table, put a credit chip down and limped out the door as his disguise warranted, looking around for his car and Watson before heading down the street to another speakeasy.

_**Flashback**_

"So you're not telling me where we're going."

"No."

"And you're not telling me what we're doing."

Holmes grinned and gave a side long glance in Beth's direction. "No." He so loved to tease her like this. Lestrade was a veritable sponge when it came to knowledge. She wanted to know everything about anything. When someone deliberately kept information from her, it was in her nature to try and seek it out in whatever way she could, no matter the consequences. It was one of the many things Holmes was finding that he admired about her. Not that he hadn't had an appreciation for this talent and many others before he'd kissed her two nights ago, but he was finding himself looking at her myriad of skills in a different light now.

He caught Beth giving him a sly look out of the corner of his eye, and his grin only widened.

"What are you up to, Holmes?" she mused, looking out the window at the city below her.

"You will discover in due time, Beth," Holmes murmured, steering the coach carefully through the traffic that was beginning to thin out as they cleared the city limits and arrived in the more rural and country part of New London, "for now, enjoy a ride in a hovercraft that isn't quite as life threatening as when you fly it."

A snort was his answer as he continued to pilot the vehicle to a remote location, and as he landed the contraption, Lestrade had to admit that he had come a long way with driving a hover coach. After all, it must have seemed just yesterday that he'd ridden a horse along the cobblestone streets of London, England in the 19th and early 20th centuries.

Holmes unlocked the cabin doors and bade her to get out, which she did. Beth looked around. It seemed they were in the middle of Middlesex Park, along one of the nature trails. The Thames sparkled in the distance, the light of the rising moon and setting sun mixing together on its waves. Hovering illuminators lit the trail way through the sparse tree's that marked the park, and sitting on the trail were two four legged animals that were taller than Lestrade herself. One was a magnificent black color, standing tall and proud, and its long mane straight and sleek. The other was slightly smaller though not by much and a silvery gray color, the moonlight casting a majestic glow on the mammal. Lestrade could only stare at the creatures as Holmes admired her awe from a small distance.

"In one of the many conversations you and I have had about my old life, the topic of horses came up."

Beth observed Sherlock as he walked up the horses and patted the black one on its neck. "I thought perhaps you and I would have another conversation tonight while we took a ride." As he continued to pat the horse, he beckoned Beth to come closer. "They'll not hurt you. Come; they are grand beasts, I'll grant you, but some of the gentlest alive."

Nodding, Beth walked up to the silver mare and, with a questioning look towards Holmes who nodded, stroked the long white mane of the horse. The mare shook her head quite suddenly, and Beth laughed at the snort the horse gave. "I guess that means she likes me?"

"Quite." Holmes walked around the grey mare and stood behind the inspector. "I am correct in assuming you have never sat a horse before?" She nodded, so he took her elbow and pulled her parallel to the saddle. "Place your left foot in the stirrup, hold your left hand to the reigns and your right onto the side of the saddle, and when you've reached the apex of your rise, swing your right leg over and hold the reigns tightly. The horse will need to get used to your weight."

Lestrade nodded and did just as Holmes suggested. He kept his hands off her the entire time, knowing she'd be grateful for the advice, but would want to perform the first sitting herself. Therefore, he spotted her, and once she was on securely, she looked down at him and grinned.

"Are you just going to stand down there, or are we going to ride?"

_**End Flashback**_

"You want another, buddy?"

"Hmm?" Holmes looked up at the bar-keep and then down to his glass, which was surprisingly empty. He was glad he'd chosen a light drink and nodded his head. Soon, another full glass was sitting before him, and Holmes took it by its base and got off the stool, heading to the back of the bar. Finding an empty booth, he set the glass down and slid into it, looking around inconspicuously at his surroundings. Since Beth's disappearance 36 hours previous, he'd been slipping into his memories of their times together. He'd almost forgotten about their first outing. She'd remarked sometime afterwards that had been one of his more romantic ideas. He'd only smirked and referred to the logicality of it all. She'd talked of horses, often wondered what it would be like to ride one, and he'd provided the opportunity for her; nothing more.

_Focus, Holmes_. He glanced around, endeavoring to find someone he recognized. This was now the fifth saloon he'd been in and in each and every one he'd ordered a small drink and sipped it silently, never losing his demeanor until this one. Pushing the drink away from him, he instead sat back and crossed his arms over his chest, tipping his chin down to appear as though he were sleeping. Even though the cocktails he'd been ordering had very little alcohol in them, the drinks of today were not what they were back in his hay day, and being that he hadn't eaten anything for a few hours, they were starting to affect him in a manner that was quite detrimental to his investigation.

He stole a glance at his chronometer; 12:35 in the morning. Tipping the hat he wore further down on his head, he raised his wrist slightly to his mouth and punched in the communication code to Watson.

"Yes, Holmes?"

"Watson, is there anyone that we are familiar with outside?"

"None yet, old friend. I have been keeping a rather apt eye on the sidewalks of both sides of the street, but to no avail." The droid heard the sigh in Holmes voice as he answered. "Very well, Watson. These establishments close around three in the morning. I should like to visit as many as I can before that time, if you are up to it?"

"Of course, Holmes. I shall stay in the hover coach as long as you need."

Sherlock couldn't help but smile at that. "You are indeed a true and noble friend, Watson. When I find Beth, much of the credit will be due to your stout and loyal assistance."

"Nonsense Ho-hello."

Holmes frowned. "Watson?"

"It appears there is an acquaintance of Moriarty's wondering into the saloon you are casing, Holmes."

The detectives' heart skipped a beat at his friends' words, but he took care not to outwardly show his jubilation. "Who?"

"A young delinquent by the name of Erikson, I do believe. He has helped Moriarty out on several robberies in the past, especially in cases where Moriarty's creator Fenwick was involved."

"Ah yes…here he is now. Stand by, Watson." Holmes affixed his eyes to the door as a young man probably no more than university age walked in, sat down at the bar, and ordered a drink. In no time, the bar tender handed the man a tall glass, and it was good that Watson had recognized the man and that Holmes was watching him, otherwise the detective would have missed the piece of paper that traveled underneath the glass across the counter and into the delinquents hands.

"A transfer of some kind of paper, Watson; be it a note, a map, or something else, I am not sure…" Holmes leaned forward slightly, bringing his drink closer to him as he watched the young man unfold the note and read it. Before Holmes could blink, he was up off his stool and out the door. Holmes growled into his communicator that the man was getting away, and received a response that made Sherlock smile. He needn't rush, for Watson would have the man waiting for him by the time he got outside to the coach craft.

Unfortunately, the bar tender had other plans as he came round the counter, an ionizer in his grip. "Jus' a minute, Detective. Can't let you go after m'friend such as you are!"

Well, now Holmes knew what the note was; a warning for the young man to escape while he still could. It also meant that the bar tender had recognized him, though he couldn't for the life of him figure out how, but that wasn't important at the moment. What mattered was him getting away and talking to his quarry. "I really have no time for your games, Sir, if you will excuse me-" his leg was fast as lightening as he kicked the ionizer out of the barkeeps hand and took him to the ground. "I should very much like to know how you recognized me, good Sir, and if you're thinking of spinning a tale to tell, then I really must advice against it." To emphasize his point, Holmes pushed his knee into the throat of the man and pressed lightly. Keenly aware of the pairs of eyes that were boring into him, Holmes addressed the crowd. "If any of you are thinking of defending this man, I bid you to stay out of this affair, or you can take a trip down to New Scotland Yard."

It was amazing how a threat to spend a night in a containment cell could motivate possible criminals and problematic people in general to turn and look the other way. Pulling the other man to his feet, Holmes shoved him out the door and was met by Watson, who was having no trouble at all holding onto his catch. Erikson looked petrified as he was being held at least a foot off the ground by the collar of his shirt as a Level Seven Compudroid gave him a stern look…or as stern a look as Watson could manage to give.

"Do call up the Yard, Watson." Holmes held the other man fast against the wall. "I think the Chief Inspector would enjoy talking to these two subordinates of Moriarty's Of course, if he is too busy, I will be more than happy to stand in his place."


	4. Chapter 4

**Authors Note: **Chapter Four is upon you! I think about now is where we can start delving into the nitty gritty. I'll drag it out slowly of course, just to torture you all. I am loving the feedback I've been getting so far. Keep it up! It helps me to stay the course!

**Wanted: Criminal Dynasty**

It was 1:45 in the morning by the time New Scotland Yard had placed the two felons Holmes and Watson had apprehended into separate containment cells. Chief Inspector Grayson had been called in once the prisoners were secured, and it was all Holmes could do not to lock himself in one of the boxes with one of those delinquents and begin to get some answers. He'd never realized he could feel so angry or blood thirsty.

Now that he did, he wasn't sure what to do with himself. Outwardly, he forced himself to remain stoic and aloof. Beths' kidnapping was a big enough problem all by itself without him adding to it the spectacle of a man driven to the brink of madness over his lovers disappearance, not to mention the fact that he and the inspectors relationship was still very secret. An overly emotional response to anything regarding this case would invoke some questions that he simply was not ready to answer yet. So he did the only thing that he could do, and that was wait for the good Chief Inspector to arrive, which he did three minutes after Erikson and the bar tender had been escorted down to the holding room.

"Holmes."

"Chief Inspector."

"What have you found?" Grayson headed for his office and punched in the access code, Watson and Holmes following close behind. As soon as all three were in the office, Grayson slid the door shut and walked around behind his desk, flopping down in the leather wheelie chair.

"To be quite honest, I am not sure as of yet." The detective ignored the rather pensive look being directed at him and continued on. "As you no doubt are aware, I have been keeping an eye out for any acquaintances of Professor Moriarty's, and in doing so, I came across Mr. Erikson. Somehow, the bar tender recognized me and slipped Erikson a note as he gave him the drink he'd ordered. Erikson immediately turned the stool over as he tried to get away, but he wasn't counting on Watson here being ready to apprehend him."

Watson positively beamed.

"So you know of this Erikson then?" Grayson pulled up his computer monitor and began typing something in to the data bank.

"I know that he is an associate of Moriarty's, a rather acceptable thief that can often be found in the employ of Dr. Martin Fenwick, Moriarty's closest associate."

Watson cleared his throat. "If I may say Holmes, I find it very odd that anyone would be able to recognize you in the costume you are wearing. True, it is not an elastomask as anyone would be able to recognize the collar that sits at the neck, but-and I say this as a good friend who knows you quite well-had I not known you were underneath all that make up, I would not have been able to see through it."

"Yes," Sherlock tapped his lips with the tip of his index finger I thought, "it is a remarkable problem. Perhaps the bark keeper will be able to answer that question and more."

"Perhaps he will," came Grayson's answer as he tapped a few more keys and glanced at the doctor and the consulting detective, "Mr. Gerard Erikson, 24 years old, genetic engineering major at New Oxford University. He has a wrap sheet a mile long, apparently turned to crime when he could not afford to continue paying for his rather expensive education after his parents died. He has been in and out of trouble with New Scotland Yard for quite some time, though always for theft, never for kidnapping."

"What did he normally steal?" Watson asked.

"Medical equipment mostly it looks like." Grayson continued to scroll down the screen. "Let's see here um…yes, he's stolen from hospitals, lab equipment manufacturers, research labs…"

"And have any places such as those been robbed in the past, say month?" This time it was Holmes asking. His inner detecting sense had latched on to something, his mind was beginning to swirl with possibilities, and this was a good thing, for once he narrowed down and excluded those possibilities, whichever one remained, however unlikely, must be the true and final lead to follow.

Grayson nodded his head as he glanced up at the detective. "A research lab for genetics; McKenzie and Fonroy Office of Medical Research. The case still remains unsolved." Sighing, he stood up from the desk. "Wait here for me. I'm going down to talk to our two newest guests."

"With all due respect, Chief Inspector-"

"All respect is due to me, and I thank you for giving it to me, Mr. Holmes, but for right now, you will make yourself quite at home in my office while I give a shake down to our new found friends." Grayson punched a button on the wall and the door to his office slid open again with a soft hum. "Do yourself a favor Holmes; stay here and let me do my job."

Holmes could only watch Grayson walk out the door, and he hissed in frustration as the door slid closed behind him. "That man doesn't know the first thing about interviewing one of Moriarty's henchmen."

"He may have a chance, old friend," Watson did his best to try and sooth the detective that looked about ready to break down the door. "Mr. Erikson was quite alarmed at the prospect of having you in the same bar as he. It is possible that his fear is great enough in the face of the Chief Inspector of New Scotland Yard who has one of his best officers missing that he will relent and answer all the questions Mr. Grayson asks him."

Holmes didn't even blink as he made his answer. "I want to ask him myself."

If the doctor could have swallowed a lump of nervousness, he would have. Being that he was a robot, he could only act as though he were sighing and cast his eyes to the floor. He couldn't blame Holmes for the way he was feeling. He was acting the way any one would act when they'd had someone they cared for taken from them. The problem was that, before now, Watson had never had to deal with a passionately irate Sherlock Holmes, and now that he was faced with it, he didn't know where to start.

So he stood in the room next to his friend while the detective looked out the window, a sadness in his eyes Watson had never seen before, but determination locked into his jaw that was more than recognizable.

It was almost 2:30 in the morning when both men heard the sliding door rear back into its pane and both turned to see a frustrated Chief Inspector step over the threshold. Without sparing a glance at the historic pair, he sat down and waved them out, but as Holmes was nearing the door, he raised his voice to stop him.

"Erikson is terrified but tight lipped; seems he's more afraid of Moriarty than he is of the police force. He's definitely hiding something, possible that he even knows about Lestrade's kidnapping, but don't count on getting anything out of him. Moriarty's reach is far, and he knows it."

The look on Holmes face was positively deadly as he looked the Chief Inspector in the eye.

"Mine is further."

**Wanted: Criminal Dynasty**

Grayson hadn't been lying. Gerard Erikson looked like a scared puppy, cowering on the bench in his cell, but this did not sway Holmes in the least. If possible, the young man looked even more terrified than he had been when Holmes and Watson had apprehended him. "I'll advice you not to test my patience. This warning is your first and last." He crossed his arms and stared hard at the boy. "Why did you run out of the bar?"

Erikson shrugged.

"Did you not hear what I said before I asked the question?" Sherlock placed his hands on the table. "Why did you run?"

"I-I got a tip…a note-"

"Underneath your glass, yes I know. I saw the barkeep slip it under its base," Sherlock murmured, "but of all the moves you could have made, that had to have been the stupidest one. You ran. You drew more attention to yourself. Why did you not stay, finish your beer, and then leave calmly?"

"The note told me to leave right away," Erikson muttered, "said it came directly fro-from my boss. Said you was there."

"Oh come my dear boy, you and I both know you work for Moriarty quite frequently, so let's not prance around." Holmes pulled out a chair and sat in it, crossing his legs, "the note was a message from another associate of Moriarty's, yes?" The felon nodded. "Moriarty has a vast criminal empire in the Underground, undoubtedly someone recognized me-" at this, the boy shook his head, and Holmes arched an eyebrow. "No?"

"No." Erikson cleared his throat and scratched at his neck. "Your hovercraft…and the droid. So-someone recognized your hovercoach and that droid sitting outside the bar and-and they went and told the barkeep and anyone that has any connection to…to the boss-"

"Moriarty," Holmes supplied.

"Yea…to him, the barkeep's got instructions to let everyone know when you're around and-and that's what he was doin' when…"

"When you ran?" Holmes leaned back and smirked, shifting his legs so his ankle was now perched on the opposite knee. "You're aware that a New Scotland Yard Inspector has gone missing, correct?" Erikson nodded. "And you are also aware that we have surveillance proving that Moriarty himself took this inspector?"

Again a nod.

"So, the obvious question any investigator would ask a frequent associate of the greatest criminal of all time, is this; do you know where he is now?" Holmes frowned when Gerard shook his head no, but he'd been expecting that. The man hadn't been anywhere on the security tapes when Beth had been taken hostage, so he had nothing to refute it. "You steal things for Moriarty, yes?"

"Occasionally. Well…yea, I mean. Yea, sometimes."

"And your record indicates that you normally take items that have a medical disposition to them, correct?" Nervously, the criminal bobbed his head up and down so as to indicate an affirmative. "There was a robbery a fortnight ago at a local genetic research lab…McKenzie and Fonroy. Did you have anything to do with it?"

Silence.

"Mr. Erikson?"

Gerard fidgeted somewhat uncomfortably, admiring the bench he sat on, the four walls that enclosed him, the chair Holmes was sitting in, the security guards outside…anything _but_ Holmes. "Mr. Erikson, I am not known to be a violent man, but my temper is rather on the thin side. You may be afraid of Moriarty, that is all well and good, and that healthy respect is rightfully given. However, as I am standing before you, an officer of the NSY is missing, and I don't believe the sergeants outside would mind turning away for a few moments while I 'persuade' you to answer my question, so, I will ask you one last time; were you the one who broke into McKenzie and Fonroy Office of Medical Reseach?"

Slowly, almost too slowly for Holmes current patience level, Erikson nodded his head, his mouth as thin as a line drawn with a pen. "What did you take?"

"Uh…testubes, an incubater, petree dishes, um…" Erikson scratched the side of his head and breathed out slowly, "couple microscopes, a centrifuge or two…"

"Was this for Moriarty or Fenwick?"

"I mean…both…"

"Both. Meaning Fenwick ordered you to obtain the items because Moriarty had some use of them." A shrug was his answer, and Holmes let that go. "Where was the last place you saw Fenwick?"

Erikson blinked. "On my vid-monitor. I don't know where these guys hang out."

"Really?" Holmes raised his eyebrows. "With such valued equipment I doubt that you would drop a shipment off like that just anywhere. You mean to tell me you've never seen Fenwick face to face, or met him anywhere?"

"I-I guess…"

"Take another guess, Gerard."

**Wanted: Criminal Dynasty**

Initially, Holmes had insisted on going with Watson to the McKenzie and Fonroy Office of Medical Research. In fact, insisted was too weak of a word. Safe to say that Holmes had _demanded_ to accompany Watson, but the level seven compu-droid was having none of it. The world's greatest detective had been awake for over 36 hours straight, and Doctor Watson was very aware of the stress the human body could undergo when not properly rested. The very point that Holmes didn't even fight the decision for as long as Watson was expecting was a testament to that conclusion.

For 20 minutes in Grayson's office, the two went back and forth, until the Chief Inspector stepped in and ordered Sherlock Holmes, as a consultant to the New Scotland Yard Inspectors division, to undergo at least four hours of sleep before starting the case again. Holmes still fought that, until the Chief threatened to throw him in a cell and leave him in it until he remembered Holmes was down there, which wasn't likely to be for a while.

Sherlock relented after that.

Now, Watson was flying to the research lab in question. It was nearing seven in the morning, and he was hoping that as he landed the coach craft Holmes was sleeping on a couch somewhere in the New Scotland Yard headquarters.

As he powered down the hovercraft and released the hatch to open the doors, Watson noticed someone already coming out to greet him. She was a petite woman with short brown hair, glasses, and a pointed nose. Her green eyes were questioning her early morning visitor as she walked up to the coach.

"Good morning, Miss," Watson gave a slight bow and extended his hand, "my name is John Watson. I am on business from the New Scotland Yard. I was wondering if I could speak to one of the lead researchers of this facility."

"Well, I fit that description," the woman gripped Watson's robotic hand and gave it a light shake, "though I must say, it is odd for New Scotland Yard to send a compu-droid to do an inspectors work."

"I have only a few questions for you, I promise not to take up too much of your time."

"Oh don't worry about it," the woman shook her head, "I'm not offended, really. Actually, it's quite refreshing to see that the NSY is using their compu-droids for something other than fetching its officer's coffee. I'm Jane Fonroy, by the way."

"John Watson."

"You've said that already," Jane chuckled and turned away, leading Watson into the research facility. "So what can we do for New Scotland Yard?"

"Chief Inspector Grayson has asked me to convey to you that we have apprehended the thief who broke into your labs two weeks ago."

"That's great!" Jane grinned as she pressed her hand to a scanner and the doors slid open to grant them access. "When did you solve the case?"

"At precisely 2:47 this morning."

"Well, that's really wonderful," Jane smiled up at him, and if Watson had had an organic heart, it probably would have fluttered. "I really don't know what I can do to show my appreciation."

"Perhaps you can explain to me exactly what it is you do here at this lab facility." At her confused expression, Watson elaborated. "We have reason to believe the robbery that occurred at your facility may be linked to another crime that was committed in the past 48 hours." Reaching into his pocket, Watson pulled out a data pad and handed it to his fellow doctor. "There you will find a list of all that was stolen from the labs. If you could tell me what that equipment would be used for, it may help us answer some questions for our current case."

"No problem," Jane took the data pad from Watson and continued to walk down the pristine white hallway and into an office, which Watson presumed to be her own by the way it was decorated. When she finished looking over the notes, she glanced up at the compu-droid. "This is a genetic research lab, Doctor Watson. We study anything having to do with the genes of men and women, and what happens to those genes when they are fused during conception through a sperm and an egg. We study life from its most basic form through all its stages, up to and including death." She handed him the data pad and Watson accepted it back. "The equipment that was taken from us is generally used in creating life."

"Creating life?" Watson furrowed his brow in thought. "As in cloning?"

"Creating life as in In-Vitro Fertilization, the process by which an ovum is removed from a woman's ovary and fertilized outside her body, and then placed back in the womb in an attempt to conceive a child when sexual intercourse does not perform the act of conception as it's supposed to." Dr. Fonroy sat in the leather chair behind her desk and invited Watson to do the same. "It used to be a very slow process, usually taking days to incubate the sperm and eggs together to create a fertilized egg, but now a-days…" Jane shrugged, "with the technology we have, a man and woman could go to a medical facility, give their samples, the egg could be incubated within 24 hours and placed in a woman's womb 12 hours after that and just like that" she snapped her fingers, "the woman is pregnant, usually with a 92 percent success rate."

An incoming call on her vid-phone interrupted their conversation and she held up a finger to excuse herself. When she was finished, she stood up, an apologetic look on her face. "I'm sorry, Dr. Watson, but duty calls. I've been called to an impromptu meeting with the other researchers. I can get one of my assistants to show you out, if you like?"

"No, no," Watson held up a hand as he also stood up and aside so she could slide open her door, "don't trouble yourself, I am certain I can find the way quite easily. Thank you very much for taking the time."

"Not a problem," Jane grinned, "feel free to give me a call if you or New Scotland Yard need any other information from me." With that, she swept out of the office and down the hall, leaving Watson to look after her. Not for the first time, he found himself wondering how different his life would be if he were more like his ancient counterpart with regards to physicality. However, he brushed those thoughts aside as he headed out of the office and down the corridor towards the exit from which he'd come.

A thief of Moriarty and Fenwick's stealing equipment that was normally used to create life between two human's that couldn't do it naturally…and Lestrade going missing 12 days after…

Watson was not looking forward to facing Holmes on this one, and as he climbed into the hover coach and lifted off seconds later, he was counting his blessings that Sherlock had been made to stay behind and catch some sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Authors Note: **Chapter Five has arrived, and with it, some bad news for our hero's! In this chapter, we have the revelation of Moriarty's plans, a new plot twist, and sweet nostalgic memories from Watson of all people. Enjoy and as always, let me know what you like and don't like by reviewing!

**Wanted: Criminal Dynasty**

It was around 9:00am before Watson made his way back to Grayson's office. After going almost 48 hours straight, he was in sore need of a recharge, and chose to take about an hour to get his systems the juice it needed while (he hoped), Holmes was still asleep. He also couldn't lie to himself; he wasn't looking forward to telling either Grayson or Holmes what he had learned at the research facility. The very fact that the equipment that had been stolen could be used to create life in a lab left implications that chilled Watson to his central processing unit.

In the beginning, Watson considered Beth a different kind of human. She helped give him a personality, looked at him as more than just a hunk of metal that happened to be able to walk and talk, actually spoke to him a though he were a human being and treated him as such. When she'd asked him to download all the tales and stories that had ever been written about the Great Detective Sherlock Holmes, and the personal journals of D. John H. Watson, he hadn't truly understood why, but he'd done it because Lestrade had ordered him to.

He was very glad that he had. And after first meeting Holmes, even though they'd gotten off to a rocky and somewhat stilted start, he understood why. Holmes had depended on the John Watson of old incredibly, he'd had an immense amount of faith in the man, his abilities and the advice he was readily able to provide, and if Holmes was going to be as fruitful in this world as he was in the last one, he was going to need that same person to bounce his ideas off of.

So, as Level Seven Compu-droid became John Watson and got to know Elizabeth Lestrade as that name to her person, he'd developed a remarkable affection for her. When the tell tale signs of a possible budding romance between inspector and detective began to spring up, it had been Holmes that had spoken to Watson about it first, unsure of the customs of the 22nd century when it came to courting and whether or not he should broach the subject to the inspector. Elizabeth had kept mostly silent on the matter, not one to announce her feelings so openly, even to a good an old friend like Watson. But the droid had often caught the small looks that she'd send Holmes way when he wasn't looking. There was even one instance where Watson had walked in on Beth performing a particularly kind gesture for Sherlock's benefit.

_**Flashback**_

The living room had been quiet for quite some time now. As he sat in his private quarters, Watson wasn't sure if Inspector Lestrade had left or if Holmes had gone to bed, but if Beth had left and Holmes had gone to bed and he hadn't heard, then he was sure there was a small mess to tidy up in the living room. So, he rose from his chair where he'd been downloading articles on their latest case for research purposes and walked out of his room and down the hall quietly. When he entered the living room, he stopped at the threshold of the hallway and looked on quietly, partially surprised, but not incredibly shocked.

Holmes, who had been sitting on the couch a few hours ago last he saw, was now lying on it sound asleep, and Inspector Lestrade was just now putting a blanket over him. There was something in her face however that caused Watson to pause for a moment and just watch the scene unfold in front him, a tenderness that he'd seldom seen on Beth's features save for the rare occasion when she thought no one was watching, such as now.

As she stood over the sleeping detective, Watson saw the unconditional care and respect she had for the man lying before her, perhaps even love, but he also saw hesitation, worry, and trepidation. She had reason to feel those things, for if anyone at New Scotland Yard got wind of a possible relationship which was more than platonic between a consulting detective and his supervisor, the two would inevitably be split up. It wasn't necessarily the case that if that happened, Beth and Sherlock wouldn't be able to see each other, but it was without a doubt certain that neither of them would be working on any cases that New Scotland Yard was officially scoring. For all their fights, disagreements, unorthodox methods, and yes, sometimes insane ideas, the two worked very well together, and if they were driven apart by inner office relationship regulations, it would be a sad day for New London indeed.

"Inspector?"

"Watson!" Beth looked up at him, the redness in her cheeks making it apparent that she'd been oblivious to his presence in the first place. "Sorry, I didn't see you there."

"Nor should you have," the doctor offered her a gentle smile, "you seemed to be quite preoccupied with something else."

"Yea…umm…" The red tinge on her face intensified and she ducked her head, brushing back her one blonde lock in an attempt to conceal her face and reign in her emotions. "Hey, lemme help you clean up!"

"No need, Inspector, no need. I was actually coming out here to do that myself. I'd expected you'd be gone by now." As he spoke, Watson did indeed move to the coffee/magazine table and began to gather the cups, saucers, and the ornate tea pot Lestrade had bought Holmes for Christmas the previous year. As he removed the dishes, Beth tidied the table by piling the old magazines and newspapers together and placing them on opposite ends, the newspapers closest to the chair by the fire place, just where she knew Holmes liked it. Watson did not miss that as he carried the dishes into the kitchen and began to put them in the sink. A few moments later, Beth followed him.

"Have you and Holmes made any headway on the case?"

Beth shook her head in frustration. "Not even a dent. Whoever this thief is, he's virtually undetectable and he never leaves a DNA trail behind, so we can't even begin to identify him! Not to mention Grayson is screaming at me night and day now for an answer on this case…" Beth's head landed her hands as she rubbed her eyes. "We've been at it for days now. New Scotland Yard has gone over every inch of every crime scene with the DNA Scanners, we've looked at every piece of footage from the security camera's, cross referenced this thief's methods to others in our data base and now we're looking at the places he has robbed and trying to create a pattern from it but…"

Watson was hi s normal cheerful and supportive self. "I have every confidence in your abilities, Inspector, as does Holmes. The both of you have been working particularly hard on this case; it is no doubt tiring when your efforts remain fruitless. Just as in other areas of life, it must be quite exhausting to keep chipping away at the same problem and never feel as though you've gotten anywhere or achieved anything."

Beth gazed at him coolly for a moment or two before asking, "How long have you known?"

"Known?"

"About…about…." Beth sighed. Was there nothing in her life that would ever be easy? "Oh Zed, how long have you known that I like him?"

"To your credit, Inspector, not too terribly long, two or three months at the most." Watson stole a glance at her pensive face. "You needn't worry, Inspector Lestrade. I'll not betray your secret, nor will I ever without your express permission or desire for me to do so."

"Thank you, Watson."

_**End Flashback**_

Watson made his way up from the recharge area in NSY to the inspectors sector of the department, and the first thing he noticed was the amount of activity in the central office area. It didn't take long to find Chief Inspector Grayson and Sherlock Holmes in the middle of it all, and Watson wondered how he would ever get the two in a room to tell them what he'd learned.

As it turned out, as soon as Holmes caught the slightest glimpse of his friend, he waved the robot over and patted Grayson on the arm. Watson thought he'd cracked, but he'd actually just saw Holmes and the Chief Inspector of New Scotland Yard behaving civilly towards one another and actually working together! _Ahhh…the miracles a crisis can produce!_

"Ah, Watson, good of you to show up!" Holmes clapped him on the back, allowing the doctor to get a closer look at his friend. It seemed he'd gotten some sleep after all, as the bags that had been under his eyes had faded slightly. "There has been a development. A young girl that was a frequent companion of Moriarty's for a small amount of time has disappeared. Her boyfriend phoned in her abduction early this morning!"

"Then you have a lead on where Inspector Lestrade may be?"

"It's possible," Grayson passed Watson a data pad, "up load these maps into your rickety system and follow me."

When all three were in the office, Grayson slid the door shut and punched in the lock code to it. "The girls name is Annabelle Wilson. She's 23 years old and was known to have associations with Moriarty for a few months last year until he got tired of her and abandoned her. She got a boyfriend named Kevin a few weeks later and has been working as a waitress at a local bar since then."

"And when did the child go missing?"

"Sometime between three and four this morning," Holmes answered, "her boyfriend said she was working a rather late shift at the bar last night and had stayed overnight to clean up. When she didn't come home at her normal time, Mr. Andrews, the boyfriend, dialed the bar. No one answered. He waited another twenty minutes for her to come home before contacting New Scotland Yard."

"And it is certain that Moriarty is the one who has taken the girl?"

"According to the DNA that was found at the scene of Inspector Lestrade's abduction, that DNA matches the strains that were found at the bar she worked at." Grayson sat in chair and leaned forward on the desk as Holmes stood near the window and gazed out at the view. "The public street security tapes confirm one of the men that helped abduct Lestrade also kidnapped Annabelle Wilson."

"Unfortunately, the notice was too late to gain an ion trail on the hover craft they used." Watson didn't have to look at Holmes to tell that his eyes were down cast, but he quickly bounced back by glancing at him, paying him his full attention. "What did you find out?"

**Wanted: Criminal Dynasty**

The ceiling was rather ornate, Elizabeth decided. For a part of the room that most people would never look at or appreciate, someone that had stayed in this mansion or owned it and used it for a long period had taken the time to oil paint intricate biblical designs on it.

This indicated that someone had a lot of money and a lot of pride, and that they wanted to show it off at any chance they got. If painting on an infrequently looked at part of a square room cured their need for their affirmation of wealth, then so be it, but Beth decided around 5:17 that morning that she didn't like it at all.

There were several reasons that made her reach that conclusion. Reason number one was that she wasn't a huge fan of art period. Reason number two was that religious art was definitely not her cup of tea, not because she had a problem with religion or spirituality in general, but because of all the hidden messages that had been planted in art since the creation of Christianity, Judaism, and Islam. It literally gave her a headache sometimes to stand in front of a rendition of The Last Supper and look at all the inconsistencies in the painting; little to no food on the table, no Goblet of Christ to be found, whether or not there were breasts on the man or woman to Jesus' left which of course led to the question of whether or not that was Mary Magdalene….Reason number three was that she didn't like show offs. Period. Which made her question, not for the first time, why she was courting and bedding Sherlock Holmes.

Beth closed her eyes against the picture in her head and rolled over on her stomach. The sun light streamed in through the stain glass windows and created a kaleidoscope of colors on the floor and the bed spread and that occupied her for a little while, but not long enough. The ancient clock on the dresser read 8:54 in the morning. In six minutes, someone was going knock on the door and order her up and out of bed. Someone was going to force her to eat a breakfast that she wanted no part of and then Moriarty was probably going talk her ear off about a subject that she could more than do without.

But Beth had a plan. She did. Moriarty had made mention that he possessed a rather well stocked and technologically sound medical facility in the basement of the structure she was now held hostage in. He'd also not failed to tell her that he had the ability to get in touch with anyone in New London that he needed to, which meant that he had a communications center somewhere at his disposal, and Lestrade was willing to lay credits to donuts that it was also within the bowels of this minor palace.

As she'd been expecting, a knock came at the door and Beth looked over her shoulder at it. Sniffing, she pulled the covers up closer to her chin and stared ahead, not wanting to give any credence to whomever was coming through to talk to her.

"Good morning, Inspector!"

Audibly, she groaned. Of course, it would have to be James Moriarty to come and gather her for breakfast. Speaking of breakfast, as she inhaled deeply to keep her temper in check, she caught the faint scent of food…_real food_, not processed health bars or ready to eat meals. The smell reminded her of some of the early morning breakfasts Holmes would make after long nights working on cases and….doing other things…

"Come Inspector Lestrade, you must be famished by now." Moriarty placed a tray on the bed with a standee and tapped the mattress. Lestrade stayed put, not even looking at the tray.

"Come now, Elizabeth," Moriarty rounded the bed post and walked within her line of sight. "You do remember our conversation last night, don't you? If you make things hard on me, I make things hard on you…" He groaned as Beth continued to avoid his gaze, so he knelt down in front of her eyes and latched onto them with his own blue ones. "Inspector, I'll not ask you again. Eat the food that was brought to you."

Suppressing a shiver, Lestrade rolled on her back and sat up slightly, placing her hands in her lap and waiting for the tray to be brought to her. If Moriarty was going to humiliate her, then she was going to embarrass him right back, and if that meant making him act as though he were her butler for a short time, then so be it. She'd get a kick out of it while she could. She picked up the fork and poked at the eggs while watching as her 'butler' grabbed hold of the chair that had been broken previously and affixed the leg back to it. He pulled it to the side of the bed and sat down.

"I can't eat while people are staring at me."

"You're not eating while people are staring at you," he retorted, "you're eating while I'm talking to you. Really Lestrade, if your grammar is this appalling, I suppose I must make sure our child is properly instructed in the English language."

Instead of answering, Lestrade loaded her fork with the eggs and lifted the utensil to her mouth. She looked at it with disdain before letting the food slide between her lips and down her throat. "What? Is this voyeuristic to you or something sick like that?"

"No, though you have given me a new idea to test out," the professor leaned back in his chair and folded his hands across his stomach. "I thought I'd let you know that the woman who is going to be carrying my legacy arrived this morning. You'll be meeting her later."

"And I suppose she's here by choice just like I am, right?"

"Actually, this young lady and I have quite the history together, or, shall I say, I indulged her for a brief period of time, and she did the same for me, if you catch my meaning." Moriarty smirked and for the third time since she'd been here, Beth thought she was going to be sick. None the less, she kept her tongue (and her breakfast), and continued eating. Truthfully, she knew she'd be hungry once morning rolled around, but she wasn't about to let James Moriarty know just how much. She had too much pride for that, and already so much had been taken from her. For what this bastard was about to do, Beth was going to ensure that he got as little satisfaction from it has humanly possible.

When she finished half of what was on her plate, she raised her eyebrows and shoved the tray from her stomach. Moriarty laughed. "You know, it's fire like that that almost makes me wish I could have you for myself. Almost…but then I am reminded of your annoying nature and generally scornful disposition towards me, and I shake myself to my senses. Still…" he shrugged and sighed, standing up and walking over to straighten up the vanity that had been knocked over the previous night as well. "Still, I wonder what it would be like to tame you just for one night."

"You'll never find out," she snarled, kicking the covers off of her legs in case she needed to move quickly.

"Perhaps not."

"No 'perhaps' about it, Moriarty," Beth swung her legs over the mattress, "short of you being a necropheliac, it will _never_ happen." She stood on her own two feet and stared him down. Moriarty only smiled.

"You should know that before I gave you your morning meal, I placed a cocktail of drugs in the eggs as they were scrambled." He had to admit; watching the shade of Beth's face go from a natural cream to a pale, unhealthy, powdery white was medically amazing and entertaining all at the same time. "The drugs will force your ovary's to secrete immediately upon intake more eggs, thus ensuring a more 'bountiful harvest' if you will allow. You may feel some cramping later on in the day, but that is to be expected." His hands rested behind his back as he took her in. The control he held over her was intoxicating. He loved power in all its forms; political, personal, emotional, psychological, physical….religious and spiritual…but the rush that he got from this particular New Scotland Yard zealot was like manna from heaven.

"The physician will be here around 6:00pm tonight. You will meet the woman who will do the 'hard labor' of the procedure after that. Until then, two of my men are just outside your door, and they shall be happy to escort you around most of the mansion or out on the grounds."

Lestrade was still staring at him, in utter disbelief of what he'd just told her. The process was already beginning; no wonder he wanted her to eat so desperately. He knew it would be the only way to get her to take those drugs. She could feel his eyes on her, examining her as though she were some kind of lab rat or experiment, and the bile was rising up once again. How _dare_ he? She said as much to him, and he only raised an eyebrow.

"Maybe if you'd been nicer to me upon our first meeting…" he shrugged and headed for the door. "6pm, Miss. Lestrade. By noon tomorrow, it will all be over, and you can go back to your old life."

**Wanted: Criminal Dynasty**

If ever Sherlock Holmes needed a stiff drink, now was that time. Both his fists clenched terribly as Watson relayed what he'd learned to him and Grayson, and with each word that Watson spoke, it literally turned his stomach. Holmes was not a man of violence by any stretch of the imagination. Truth be told, he preferred intellect and science over brute force and physical torture, but as of that moment, wrapping his hand around Moriarty's neck and squeezing the life out of him had never sounded so appealing in _either_ of his lives.

"Lemme get this straight…" Grayson, as usual, was having a hard time grasping the obvious, "you're sayin' that Moriarty kidnapped Lestrade because he…he wants a child with her?"

"I believe it is a plausible theory, Chief Inspector," Watson affirmed, sparing a glance at Holmes and immediately feeling sympathy for the man.

"Then why take this other girl, Watson? Why kidnap Annabelle Wilson if he already has Lestrade?"

"Chief Inspector, have you ever tried to keep Elizabeth Lestrade under control?" Holmes looked up at him, eye brows raised, knowing what the answer would be. "Of course you have, and because you have, you know how damn impossible it is to do. Holding onto Inspector Lestrade for nine to ten months so she can give birth to a child is, quite literally, inconceivable, and quite problematic. He would have to continue to move her, his movements would be closely guarded, and he would have to be ready to move his headquarters at a moment's notice. But if he takes…." He swallowed. He didn't like talking about Beth like this. "If he simply takes the eggs that he needs from her, fertilizes them outside the body, and then uses this other girl to actually carry the fetus…he gets what he wants without all the hassle."

"But why Inspector Lestrade?" Grayson looked at both men. "Moriarty, I'm sure, has plenty of women in the criminal underground that would be willing to give him a family if he so desires. Why choose Elizabeth?"

Holmes made a decision. Looking at Watson, he stood up and placed his hands in his pockets. "I cannot begin to theorize an answer to that question, Chief Inspector, but now that the case has come to this, there is something I should inform you of."


	6. Chapter 6

**Authors Note: **Hey everybody. So yea, I've been getting a couple reviews regarding Moriarty's behavior. He is acting a little depraved, isn't he, lol. I think about all the elaborate schemes the good professor has subjected Sherlock Holmes to, whether they be crimes he's headed up or assignation attempts, and Moriarty is nothing if not inventive. The thing I love about these two foes is that they know the other so well. They've spent two life times now studying what makes their opponent tick, both mentally and emotionally. To Moriarty, this is an 'ends justify the means' deal. Can you imagine what's going to happen when the two arch enemies meet? Can we say fireworks?

Speaking of fireworks, this story is now rated 'M' for Mature.

**Wanted: Criminal Dynasty**

Moriarty wasn't used to playing butler, but for now, he would make an exception. After bringing a less than grateful inspector breakfast earlier, he was more than ready to feed someone who would be more than happy to see and spend some time with him. Annabelle had been an amazing beauty, but, like so many women before her, and like many women after her, she had not been able to hold Moriarty's attentions for long. She reminded him too much of the women from his time; meek, small minded, too concerned with society and what was acceptable, more interested in the latest fashions, dances, and etiquette than the breaking news, politics and the true crisis' of the time.

Annabelle, for all her wanton features, was too focused on the best parties, the latest good time, more worried about the material than the mind. She was young, Moriarty granted her, only 23 if he remembered correctly, but in his time, women who were 23 and unmarried were considered to have something wrong with them. Never the less, she was still physically appealing, and after the rather strenuous two days he'd had in dealing with a certain opinionated female inspector, he fancied himself a wind down. He had no doubts that Annabelle would help facilitate that relaxation.

Shifting the tray to one hand, he knocked on the heavy oak door before opening it and was greeted with a bright smile from across the room. In turn, he sent Annabelle a charming, debonair grin her way and walked fully into the room, closing the door behind him. "I certainly hope your retainers were not terribly rough with you earlier this morning," he headed over to the vanity and placed the tray on the surface, not taking his eyes off her. "I know you must have been quite surprised at the way you were taken."

"Well…" she shrugged. "I always did like it hard and fast, Professor." Like Lestrade's room, Annabelle's also had a canopy bed wrapped in red and purple curtains. Various rugs were strewn about the floor, a vanity which was now holding the tray of food rested against the wall with a matching ornate chair tucked under its opening. The armoire was opposite the vanity, next to the head of the bed, and while Lestrade's room had stain glass windows that would not open, Moriarty felt reasonably good about Annabelle's cooperation that he'd allowed her quarters with shutters to open and close at her leisure. He had taken the precaution of placing her on the same level as the dear inspector however, for when he would finally reveal her reason for being there, he wanted to ensure that she would stay where she was put.

"Well, all the same," Moriarty shrugged, clasping his hands in front of him as he skulked towards her, "I do humbly apologize."

"Why all the secrecy?" she asked. "Why not just contact me and tell me you wanted to see me?"

"Unfortunately, it wasn't that simple for me, my dear Anne." He was glad to see that she still shivered when he used his little pet name for her. A good sign, and a promising one as well. "How is your boyfriend…Kevin is his name, correct?"

"Yea…he's alright. Probably worried about me," she sighed, sitting on the bed and scooting back as Moriarty continued to creep forward until he stood in front of her. He'd forgotten how intoxicating her eyes could be. They were a deep chocolate and almond in shape, her lashes were thin but that was fine because it allowed him to see more of those expressive eyes of hers, eyes that, not too long ago, had looked at him with such lust and want that he could hardly contain himself. "But that's okay. Kevin's nice…he takes very good care of me, but…" she shrugged, leaning back on her elbows and cocking her head to the side.

"But what?"

Anne shrugged. "He's dull. Not terribly impulsive. Not daring…" She ran a shoed foot along the outside of his right leg and lowered her eyes to his waist. "And for all his sweet smiles and generous gifts, he's quite uneducated in the bedroom, which, if you'll remember, I had a special fondness for…to be quite honest, it's left me wanting…"

Moriarty grinned and shrugged off his vest, crawling over her body as her leg hooked around his back, anchoring him to her. As their middles met she arched her back, feeling his hard manhood against her center.

"We must fix that," he murmured against her lips before crushing his mouth against her own.

**Wanted: Criminal Dynasty**

"Let me see if I've got this quite clearly."

Holmes eyed the Chief Inspector of New Scotland Yard with a practiced look of calm. To be quite honest, he wasn't sure of the reaction he was going to get from Elizabeth's boss, but so far, it hadn't been too terrible.

Yet.

"For the past year, you, a consulting detective with this force and one of my subordinates, and in all technicality, _your_ superior officer, have been seeing each other in a romantic fashion?"

"Quite."

"For the past year."

"Yes."

"So that means at the Halloween party last year, when I mentioned to Lestrade that some people around the office were beginning to talk and gossip and some such nonsense about the two of you possibly engaging in some hanky panky, the both of you were engaged in a relationship? A _courtship_, as you put it?" Grayson stared down the detective in front of him, and he wished with everything he had in him that Holmes could be as intimidated by that look as the rest of his inspectors were. But, c'est la vie. He could only sigh and rub his aching head. It wasn't that he was surprised, or shocked, or even angry. This relationship was the next step with those two, it always had been considering Beth's obsession with all things Holmesian and the point that she'd been able to bring the actual Sherlock Holmes back to life. She was living a dream come true…and now, she was apparently the girlfriend of a dream come true.

"We took great pains to keep it a secret from everyone, Chief Inspector. I highly doubt Moriarty took Lestrade because he knew of our relationship, and if he did take her to get to me, then he did so believing that I would be hurt and angered only because she was a good friend and work associate of mine." Holmes clasped his hands behind his back and stole a glance at Watson, shaking his head when his friend opened his mouth to speak. While the Chief Inspector couldn't technically do anything to Holmes currently, Watson had known about the relationship almost since its inception, and unfortunately, Watson was the property of New Scotland Yard, no matter how much Holmes detested that fact.

"I really should remove you from the case." Grayson gazed at Holmes. "That would be standard procedure. You're too close to the victim, anything that happens would cloud your judgment, but I'm not going to do that."

Holmes smirked. He knew Grayson wouldn't be able to even if he wanted to.

"I won't do that now; you're knowledge on Moriarty is second to none, and even if I did throw you out on your zedding dead arse, nothing I could do would stop you from working this case anyways, and you would only get in my way."

"Capital conclusion, Chief," Holmes headed for the door with Watson behind him, but Grayson's voice stopped him once more.

"All that aside, when we get Inspector Lestrade back, the both of you will be in this office her first day back at work and the issue will be resolved, one way or another." He watched the two men walk out the door and through the melee of officers working their stations, and Grayson rubbed his head tiredly. In all his life, he'd never met two people more prone to danger than Lestrade and Holmes, which, he supposed, made them so right for each other. On the other hand, if his superiors found out that one of his inspectors was sleeping with a subordinate, well…

Suffice to say, they would expect him to fire at least one of them, if not both, and Grayson, grey hair given to him by her as much as it had been, was not about ready to terminate his youngest and best inspector. There was a reason she'd obtained that rank before anyone else had. And he would never let _her_ know it, but, having no daughters of his own, he almost thought of her as one. It was why he was so hard on her, and why he was suspicious of Holmes. Common to contrary belief, the Chief Inspector had been young once too, and as much as Sherlock Holmes claimed to love logic more than anything else, if there was one thing Grayson had learned in his years it was this;

Logic didn't exist below the waist.

**Wanted: Criminal Dynasty**

Annabelle gazed across the room, satin sheets draped over a still slightly perspiring body. She remembered times like these so well. She would awaken after hours full of passionate sex to see the infamous Moriarty staring into nothing, be it at a wall or out a window. This morning, it was a window, the colors playing along a bearded face that Anne never failed to find exceedingly handsome and dangerous all in one. She supposed it was what attracted him to her in the first place.

"Come back to bed?" she offered, rolling to her side to allow the sheet to drop just slightly, revealing a pert and supple breast that only hours before had been at the mercy of James' mouth.

"Not now," came his answer, and even only being with him for a few months so long ago, Anne knew that look. But Anne had also changed from the young, naïve girl she had been that year or two ago. Whereas before she would have simply rolled over and pouted, now she rose up from the bed and, taking the sheet with her, padded over to the man. His shirt was still off, as were his pants, the only thing he wore was a towel that rested over his middle as he sat on the small lamp desk underneath the sill. Her eyes raked over him. In her mind, and probably in the mind of any other woman he'd had in his illustrious career, he was a god, in looks, in brains…in everything he touched.

"You didn't bring me here just because I was a good lay," she murmured, standing as close to him as she could get without touching him, "why not tell me why I'm here?"

Moriarty smirked at her, but continued to look out the window. "Since when did you begin to care about my reasons for calling on you?"

"Since I grew up," she smirked back. She was glad to see surprise register on the man's face. "Oh yea, I forgot to tell you, I've developed a bit of a mouth….as I'm sure you found out a few hours ago."

"I've never complained of your mouth before, Annabelle." He actually stole a glance at her, to catch a glimpse of those lips that had been wrapped around him earlier, and eyes that had looked up at him with such control and seduction. He hadn't remembered her that mature when he last had her, couldn't place that look of pure lust on her face all those months ago. Back then, she'd been a school girl to sate his natural needs, and she'd fawned all over him for a while. Adoration shown in her eyes whenever they rested on him, and she'd catered to his every whim, never asking a question or expecting an answer, living to please him. He lifted a finger to trace the outer lining of her lips. "It is a very beautiful mouth."

"And don't you forget it," she murmured back, taking the tip of his finger between her teeth and flicking her tongue out at it. She was gratified to see a sharp shiver come on James' shoulders. "You haven't taken a lover in quite some time."

"Oh? What makes you say that?"

"You never used to shiver at my touch. You were always quite well handled in that area, never wanting for anything, never showing any need for attention." She released his finger and looked him in the eye. "Why am I here, James?"

"James?" Moriarty shifted his body from facing the window to facing her. Her demeanor was quite intriguing to him currently. He was not expecting this, and it was very difficult to surprise him. "I seem to remember you fancied calling me 'Professor'."

"Well, if you want to play that game later, I am available. I seem to have an open schedule." Anne leaned against the window, holding the sheet to her tightly. She saw him give her a once over and asked her question again.

"I'm using you for something."

"There's a surprise." But there was no anger behind her voice, not even resentment. "What do you _think_ you'll be using me for?"

This was _quite_ unexpected, but instead of the usual annoyance and agitation at being questioned by anyone, he found this…amazingly refreshing. Why not tell her? If she crossed him, he had more than enough power to take care of her. "I'm in need of a legacy."

"A legacy?"

"Yes. I am in need of an heir, a child."

Intense brown eyes regarded him silently for a few moments. "You know I can't give you that," she finally uttered, shaking her head. "I've tried to get pregnant before…I can't do it by having sex, adoption is out of the question and I don't have the money for a medical proce-"

"But I do." With the conversation now squarely back in his court, Moriarty stood, his feet carrying him over to stand in front of her. "I already have a donor. I will fertilize the eggs outside the uterus and then implant them in you. You would be carrying my child."

Anne frowned, and Moriarty knew the next question without having to think to hard about it.

"Why not just use mine?"

"Because I'm using this particular donor to get under the skin of a rather formidable but otherwise annoying enemy of mine."

"It's always Sherlock Holmes with you, isn't it."

It was a statement, not a question, and again, Moriarty heard no anger behind her voice, no frustration within her tones. It simply was, and even the small smile on her face reflected that. "I guess I can understand that," she murmured, "so, this woman's eggs are gonna be taken from her and put in me. I carry the child to term and deliver…and then what happens to me? Because if you think I'm going to give birth to a son or daughter and then never see him or her again…" she shrugged.

"What has happened to you, Anne?" Moriarty studied her. This was an Anne he'd never met…never even thought existed or _could_ exist. "What has made you become so cool and confident all the sudden?" He stroked his beard as he spoke, truly intrigued by the young woman before him.

"I slept with you from January to April of last year, you kicked me to the curb, but the damage was already done. I found Kevin a few weeks later. He took pretty good care of me but…I already had the bug…the rush of being involved in doing something wrong, the very art of committing a crime, the genius it took to avoid being caught…I understood why it was so addictive…and I understood why you dropped me. I was a naïve child back then, full of life, but…" she shrugged, "not good company for a master criminal."

"And you think you've learned since then?"

"I think you believed that I would willingly run back to you for any promise of attention and affection from you." Moriarty nodded, acknowledging that she was correct in her assumption.

"But what you weren't counting on was the challenging attitude I've gotten since then." She stepped towards him and put a knee up on the dresser, semi straddling him by keeping her other foot on the floor. Her hand grasped the towel that had been covering his manhood and she dragged it slowly off of him, revealing a hard member. Moriarty did nothing; he just watched her. "It intrigues you, it interests you. I'm a mystery to you now…that's fair; I'm a mystery to myself sometimes." Picking her other foot up off the floor, she now straddled him completely and latched onto the sill the master criminal was leaning against. The sheet fell, revealing her taut stomach and a flushed chest. Her long hair tumbled around her shoulders and fell down her back in curls, and Moriarty's grasped her hips as they settled on him, sheathing his man hood within her as tightly as he remembered earlier that day and last year.

She murmured into his ear as she slowly began to ride him up and down. "I'll carry your child," she felt his hands grab her back side and she gasped, "I'll carry it to term, I'll give you your legacy, your heir, but I want to raise the child with you." Her hips rose up high and came down hard on him, and he let a lust filled groan escape his lungs. "Do we have a deal?" She rose up once more and hovered above him, cupping his chin in her hands and looking down into his eyes, demanding an answer. He smirked and, without warning, raised himself into her again and, at the same time, holding her to him as he stood up and slammed her into the wall next to the window. She let out a cry as he continued to push into her, hard, fast, and deep and her legs tightened around him, her hands grasped at his hair. Her screams and cries inspired him to continue until he roared his completion and she yelled hers.

Through the pants, gasps, sighs, and come down, Moriarty let her down to stand on her own to feet but kept her against the wall.

"Do we have a deal?" she rasped, her hands still locked in his hair. She stared at him hard, and Moriarty, independent, strong, and free-willed as he was, found himself nodding. She grinned.

"So, when do I conceive?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Authors Note: ** So, how did ya'll like the last chapter? Lol. I wasn't planning on doing an intimate scene with Moriarty at the onset, but characters tend to write themselves as I've found, and Moriarty wanted to have sex! Who am I to stop him? Hell, the way that Moriarty is drawn in this series, I wouldn't mind helping out once or twice. Anyways, in this chapter, we'll run into Beth Lestrade again, and observe her putting her own plans in action; Sherlock and Watson will pay a visit to Kevin, Annabelle's boyfriend, and the doctor will arrive to perform Lestrade's physical. Won't that be fun?

**Wanted: Criminal Dynasty**

Beth cringed in her room as she heard yet another scream coming from a room that she assumed was right down the hall from hers. This wasn't a scream of pain, but a cry of something else…something enjoyable. A few times, she could have sworn she heard a man's voice that disturbingly sounded like Moriarty's wafting through the walls of her room, but she quickly pushed those thoughts from her mind and threw herself on her bed, placing a pillow over her ears to try and shut out the sound.

Eventually, she succumbed to her boredom. She couldn't stay in this room another minute longer, and the professor had stated that she was free to walk about the mansion if she so desired, and currently, she desired nothing more than to get away from the lust filled sounds that she was being subjected to cruelly to. Vaulting off the bed, she headed for the door and knocked on it in sharp succession three times. It opened, revealing two of the henchmen. She was pretty sure this one was named Douglas. He just looked at her.

"I want to go for a walk," she informed him, pushing past both him and the other man that was standing outside and heading down the hall. Beth heard the quick pound of feet on the floor behind her, but she didn't care. She had to get out of range of whatever was going on down the hall from her.

"So, are there garden's here or something that will interest me?" She rounded the corner which brought her back into the main foyer, passing the massive staircase that sat front and center.

"Uh…yea, there are some gardens to walk in out back," Douglas pulled ahead of her and stopped, turning around put his hands on her shoulders to stop her, but Lestrade, who had been waiting for a moment to strike, grasped one of his wrists with both of her hands and twisted it painfully. Douglas let out a cry of pain, and Lestrade prepared to flip him when she felt something hard and dull in the small of her back. Groaning, she released him and stepped back.

"We're armed, yardie," the man behind her said, "Moriarty told us not t'hurt ya, but if ya make us, he won't mind too much."

Knowing that for the moment she was beaten, Beth relaxed her stance and crossed her arms, glowering at her opponents.

"Well?"

The two looked at each other over her shoulder and Douglas frowned. "Well, what?"

"The gardens?" She motioned with her hand for him to show her the way, and recognition dawned in his eyes. Warily, he shooed her ahead of him, ensuring to lock eyes with her and motion to the ionizer that was still brandished, and Lestrade re-crossed her arms and walked ahead.

In front of her was the wrap around drive way where the hovercraft that she'd been brought in was currently resting. The front of the house itself was quite bland, though the green that was there was well cared for. The grass was lush and full, but needed a trim, and the drive way that was now asphalt but had probably been dirt 500 years ago was well cared for, nary a crack or pot hole in it. The mansion itself was grey brick and cobblestone put together. She'd not noticed its texture when she was brought there the previous day as Lestrade was in a bit of a fit at the time. She could see the grand windows, full of stained glass, and off to the right of the main mansion were the stables where she presumed horses were kept in ancient times. There was a grove of trees next to the stables, as well as a path that led there. Lestrade turned and followed it, hearing the men keep up with her.

She imagined that back in its hay day, the grounds must have been superbly tended. She could almost see servants, stable boys, and grounds keepers milling along the trails and pathways, cutting the grass, exercising the horses, cleaning the windows atop of what must have been rickety and unsafe ladders. While she knew that Holmes had lived during the 19th and early 20th centuries, she still could not imagine standing on something so baseless or unsteady or doing such work without the help of a hover stand or some such device.

Now that she was out of the mansion and able to walk around, see her surroundings and get some fresh air, she could feel her mind beginning to clear and work. As she passed the grove of trees next to the stables, she could see past the structure and beyond. There was little to no forest, but the grass was higher and thinner there. Beth stopped and looked even further, trying to see if there was some kind of landmark that could clue her in on exactly where she was. She could absolutely assume that she was in Suffolk County, as Moriarty had mentioned that the mansion was the ancestral home of the Dukes of Suffolk when she'd first arrived, but Lestrade never went off of assumptions anymore. She supposed that was a result of hanging around Sherlock Holmes and Watson for so long. Always employ logic, and never employ baseless thoughts.

Beth didn't see anything…but she did _hear_ something. What could sound like a heavy roar but was coming off as a dull one was coming from further ahead, and as she looked straight in front of her again, she realized that the reason she couldn't see anything on the horizon was because there _was no_ horizon. Forgetting the gardens for the moment and without trying to appear too interested, she walked forward until she could see the edge of a cliff. Continuing towards it, the grasses became thinner, the terrain rockier, until she was standing about 20 feet from the edge.

The choppy seas of the North slapped against the cliff face beneath her. So, she really was in Suffolk County…on the edge of the sea, probably near some place like Lowestoft or Great Yarmouth….Moriarty had chosen this particular hide out well. He had no aft to watch; the sea watched it for him. The hard waves of the tides coming in and out made frequencies more difficult to manage, even though it could be done with the right technology, and Lestrade had no doubt that Moriarty had access to that.

And while she hadn't done particularly well in subjects such as math, science, and health, Lestrade had an amazing eye for history and geography, and that unsettled her even more as she turned around and headed back towards the two men that were fast becoming her shadow where ever she went.

There was really nothing around here. Nothing to help her, no small cities or villages…even if she _were_ near Lowestoft or Great Yarmouth, they were villages that kept to the old ways, or as near to the old ways as they could. They were by no means caught up on the technology of the 22nd century, and that was how the people of those towns wanted it.

Just her luck. It appeared that she would have to resolve to her original idea. She only had about two and a half hours before Moriarty was going to have her examined by that physician, and tomorrow morning was going to be the worst day of her life if she didn't get out of there before then. Stopping, she placed her hands on her hips and turned around, gazing back at the horizon as though she were in thought.

"Realizing just how hopeless the situation is, eh?" The other man that had been tagging along snickered at her. She smirked back. "You might say that," she crossed her arms and cocked an arrogant hip as she glared at them. Immediately, the men began to look uneasy. The man who had spoken leveled the ionizer at her once more. Beth chuckled.

"Hey…you keep walking real nice like, or we'll carry you back to the mansion."

"Will ya?" Lestrade twisted her body to look at him. "With what?" The man was only five feet from her, and Douglas wasn't armed at all from what she could see. Goon number two inched a little closer to her and held up and out the weapon in his hand. "With thi-!"

He never got another word out as Lestrade latched onto his arm, turned quickly and, using all her strength, chucked him up and over her shoulder. The ionizer fell to the ground, and before Douglas could move, she'd scooped it up and, setting it for a coil wrap, shot him with it. He instantly fell to the ground, yelling bloody murder as Lestrade turned away from him and shot is buddy too. "Here's a lesson for you," she walked past the man lying on the ground, which was now wrapped in ion coils and glaring up at her, "never get too close to your hostage. Ya never know what she can do."

Knowing that she didn't have much time, she broke into a sprint and headed towards the front of the house where the hover craft was parked. She'd have never been able to make a living out of boosting hover crafts, true, but she was still good at hotwiring the circuitry to get the things to fly. If that didn't work…

**Wanted: Criminal Dynasty**

"And had your girlfriend ever talked about places Moriarty had taken her?" Watson stood in front of Kevin Andrews in one of the New Scotland Yard's interrogation rooms. Holmes and Grayson, believing that this boyfriend of Annabelle Wilson's had no connection what so ever to Lestrade's disappearance, stood outside, not wanting to intimidate the young man. They wanted his cooperation, and Watson, gentle and genuine as he was, was far better able to gain the information they needed quickly and without hassle.

"A few places, but never anything specific," Kevin ran weary hands through his dirty blonde hair and closes his eyes, "the few times we did talk about that guy was when she was feeling particularly generous about revealing her past."

Watson nodded understandingly. "I understand. Many people who have former illegal ties are often ashamed of them." His face showed surprise when Kevin shook his head, chuckling. "That's most people, man, not Annabelle. She was never ashamed of hookin' up with James Moriarty. Oh, don't get me wrong, she never really talked about him much, but you could see it…in her eyes, when she would mention him that she was really proud to have been with him."

Watson could see the expression on Holmes face change outside the room. Now his interest was peaked. Whereas before he only thought that talking to Miss. Wilson's boyfriend was protocol, now there was that glint in his eye, that glint that said, 'this abduction may not be what we think it is'.

"I know this may be difficult for you to answer, Mr. Andrews, but-"

"Do I think she'd go back to him?" Kevin smirked and nodded. "In a zedding heart beat." He looked around the room, and Watson could tell he was convincing himself to stay as calm as possible. "Don't get me wrong; I think she likes me, I'd even go so far as to say she might even love me. But only as a friend. We were pretty good in the beginning, but I think that's because I took her mind off of this Moriarty guy. Apparently he's some hot shot criminal you guys are always after."

Outside of the glassed interrogation room, Grayson muttered, "that's the understatement of the century."

"Both of them, actually," Holmes replied, keeping his eyes on Kevin's face. "And one thing is certain; this girl isn't 'missing'. She may have been taken in an unconventional manner, but if what Mr. Andrew's is saying is true, than she must be quite content to be with Moriarty right now." He continued to watch the boyfriend as he spoke.

"But back to your original question….she never really mentioned any place specific but um…" he bit his lip, and Watson could tell that he was trying to remember any bit of information that may help them. "Let's see, she'd mention his 'underground' headquarters, she mentioned a place on the coast that he visited a lot, and there were a couple places in New London that he'd made a residence for a while. I think she saw one of them. Oh, and the sewers…he had all kinds of nooks and crannies in there."

A rap came at the window of the room and Watson looked up. Grayson was waving him out. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Andrews. I'm sure Chief Inspector Grayson will keep you updated on the situation involving Miss. Annabelle. Someone will be in to take care of you." With that, he punched the keypad and the door slid open, letting him out.

"This is fantastic," Grayson muttered, rubbing his head as he headed out of the interrogation well and up the stairs into the main office of the inspectors unit, "we've got nothing. After a girl goes missing that had ties to Moriarty and the boyfriend comes here and talks to us, we've still got nothing on where Lestrade could be."

"Not so, Chief Inspector," Holmes countered as he and Watson followed the rotund man through the melee of people working, "the young man is woefully ignorant to the possible locations of Moriarty, yes, and he seems to understand that he has lost his lover to the not so better man, true, but, he has given us a few places to investigate which, while they may not turn up Moriarty, may turn up more leads to his whereabouts. So!" Holmes tipped his deerstalker at the Chief and motioned for Watson to follow him. "I will be at Baker Street, doing my own research on the matter." And he was out the door before Grayson could so much as say good bye. Not that the man would have said good bye, but…well…it still irritated him.

**Wanted: Criminal Dynasty**

"Watson, if you would be so kind as to upload the maps you were given by Chief Inspector Grayson into our home computer?" Holmes sat in the chair as Watson did as instructed, and a few moments later, various maps of different areas of all England popped up in separate pages on the screen.

"And you said these were framed in Annabelle Wilson and Kevin Andrew's flat?"

"That is what Constable Morgan told me. According to the report, when New Scotland Yard went to question Mr. Andrew's initially at his flat, a few of the other men began searching around the apartment. Apparently these maps were found in a dresser drawer, which they scanned into the data pad, which Chief Inspector Grayson gave to me. They were of interest to them."

"And I can see why," Holmes murmured, looking at the maps that were now fully loaded carefully, "it seems this Annabelle has a rather healthy admiration for James Moriarty. She has plastered pictures of his face on each of the maps of England." Standing up and tapping a few buttons, the pages of the screen spread out to reveal four separate maps, each of England, each with pictures of Moriarty painted on different geographically locations. "There is one of him over New London, one over Surrey, Northumberland, Lincolnshire, Northshire, and Oxfordshire are also peppered with likenesses' of Moriarty, as is Suffolk."

"Most odd, indeed," commented Watson as he studied the maps, "and slightly obsessive if I do say so myself."

"We are very fortunate to have found this clue, my good friend."

"And why is that?"

"Elementary, my dear Watson, you have figured it out yourself. You have used your eyes and your brains….or your optical nodes and your neural processor; you must simply now put two and two together." Holmes descended back into the chair and looked at him, folding his hands across a lean stomach. "Tell me, what did Mr. Andrew's say when you asked him if he knew of any of the locations of Moriarty's headquarters?"

Without missing a beat, Watson made his answer. "He could not respond with specifics, only with descriptions of where Moriarty would make his hide outs and stowaways."

"Precisely, and look what we have here," Holmes hopped out of the chair once more. "He described various hideouts in New London. We have that marked here with a rather chiseled face of the good professor." He pointed to the picture, and then moved up from there. "Mr. Andrew's mentioned Moriarty had someplace on the coast; we find that Suffolk is highlighted with one of Moriarty's rather less than flattering pictures. And if we cross reference our own data base with these maps, we will find that an old school house in Oxfordshire was used by him, a farm house in Lincolnshire served as a hide out, and he had a particular fondness for the caves in Northumberland in which he hid valuable items that he'd stolen from various museums all over England." Holmes smirked as he looked at the screens. "In her obsession, probably because the poor girl never wanted to forget her experience with Moriarty…though I can't for the life of me understand why…she made the innocent mistake of plotting out all the places she'd been with him, or all the places she knew he'd hidden out."

Opening up a channel to Grayson's personal wall communicator, Holmes waited for him to acknowledge the signal. When the old man's annoyed face came on the monitor, Holmes grinned.

"Good news, Chief!"

**Wanted: Criminal Dynasty**

_Well…at least part of the plan was a success._

Lestrade was back in her room standing by the window and looking outside calmly. So she hadn't been able to hot wire the hover craft quickly enough to get away, but as strange as it sounded, she knew she wasn't going to be able to. That didn't worry her. What she'd wanted to get done, she'd (hopefully) gotten done. She was pretty sure she'd succeeded. Now all she needed to do was to wait.

It was nearing 6:00pm, and as she looked out the window, she saw another hovercraft landing beside the one she'd tried to hotwire. _The doctor is in the house_.

She was debating on whether or not to fight. Moriarty would be expecting a little scrap before getting her down to his medical area, so he'd probably come armed with enough manpower to knock her out if he had to. But then again, he didn't want to hurt her, so an ionizer would probably do. She snickered as she imagined how her captor must have reacted when he'd found his men bound with the weapons rings lying in the meadow earlier. Her smile faded though as she watched who she presumed to be the doctor, step out of the craft and walk into the mansion, escorted by a couple of Moriarty's goons.

The bravado that had been with her since she'd arrived had been waning, and now upon seeing the person that had just entered the house, Lestrade swallowed a nervous lump back down her throat and rubbed her arms comfortingly. God, she wished she was anywhere but there, _truly anywhere_ but there. She could be pinned down exchanging blaster fire with gang members in Old Towne New London for all she cared, but at least she knew she could get out of that situation fine on her own. And Sherlock would have been nearby, if not right beside her.

For the first time since she arrived, Beth found herself fighting back the salt-water of tears. She _hated_ crying, loathed it. That particular action never solved anything, and she couldn't stand it when her emotions got away from her like this, but seeing the physician arrive and walk into the mansion synched something in her.

If she wasn't found, or if she couldn't manage to get away before tomorrow morning, her first child was not going to be with the man she was head over heels for, but with the man that she despised more than anything in the world. For the first time in a long time, Beth looked at the sky and closed her eyes.

_God…if you're still up there…please…please don't let this happen…_


	8. Chapter 8

**Authors Note: **The plot thickens. Yes, I have this worked out. No, I'm not gonna tell ya'll how. Enjoy!

**Wanted: Criminal Dynasty**

It really was quite simple. It was so simple that once again, Grayson found himself wanting to pound his head against the steel of his desk in sheer agitation that Sherlock Holmes had figured it out. Figured it out yes; so every picture of Moriarty was a hiding place he'd been, and either could hold a clue to where he was currently or be the place where he was hiding now. So, yes, Holmes had figured that out, brilliant as it was. There was still a problem however.

"Exactly how do you propose I gather enough men to search all these places?"

"You won't have to, Chief Inspector," Holmes grinned as he pointed up to Northumberland, Northshire, and Lincolnshire. "These counties, for example, are much too far from Moriarty's power base. It is far likely that he wants some place closer to New London, to keep his eyes on the 'home store' as it were…and to keep an eye on us as well."

"Alright…" Grayson sighed, "So we'll raid the locations that are in New London itself."

"Notice I said _close_ to New London, not _in_ New London," Holmes deflected the suggestion easily with his usual biting sarcasm which Watson, who was standing next to the desk actively observing his friend, was quite glad to hear. "Within the confines of the city, he is likely to be closely watched, and knows that his past lairs are likely to be searched. Moriarty may be a criminal, but he is a criminal _master mind_. He would not display himself so easily." Touching the monitor, he dragged the faces of his nemesis down to the bottom of the screen and stepped back, folding his arms over his chest.

"This leaves us Surry and Suffolk," Grayson mused out loud, stroking his chin and glancing at the chronometer on the computer screen, "it's just before 1800 now...we could have a team moving in under two hours, but we've no idea where he's located…how would we find him?"

"Quite simple, Chief Inspector; if Moriarty is planning what we believe he's planning, he'll need the space to do it, and he'll need the seclusion to do it-"

"Hang on," Grayson narrowed his eyes as he looked through the windows of his office and saw that the inspectors in the bull pen's outside were beginning to crackle with life. Getting up quicker than Watson thought was possible, and nearly bowling over the droid as he did so, the stout man slid open the door.

"Oi! What's goin' on?"

One of the inspectors, a woman, probably in her mid 30's looked up at her boss and grinned. "We think we've got a lead, Sir!"

"A lead on Lestrade?" Grayson hurried out of his office, followed hotly by Holmes and Watson and landed at the woman's desk. "What makes you think that?"

Stepping back, the woman pointed at her computer monitor and grinned. "That."

Looking down, all three men could plainly see what she, and apparently all the other officers and inspectors that had been at a computer had been looking at, for scrawling across the text comm. were four words:

**Lestrade, Duke of Suffolk**

"There's your answer Chief Inspector," Holmes smiled lightly, a look coming over his features that had not been seen in almost three days, "by God, how I love that woman!"

**Wanted: Criminal Dynasty**

Beth's foot was nervously tapping up and down on the wood floor in her room waiting for the inevitable knock that would come on the door. Would she even get a knock? Would she be permitted that chivalry? Or would Moriarty just burst in with his heavy muscle and have her herded down to his medical lab like she were cattle?

When the noise announcing his arrival came, Lestrade didn't even realize she'd been holding her breath, but as soon as she heard the sharp _rap-rap- rapping_ on the other side of the door, a huge gust of air came flowing out of her mouth, and she closed her eyes against the sway that moved her body from the anxiety she was feeling. She said nothing as the door was opened. She didn't even spare a glance at him. She didn't know if the doctor was there too, and she didn't care.

"Miss. Lestrade, if you please…" Moriarty stepped aside and opened the door wider for her to exit. Beth glanced over her shoulder, but didn't budge.

"Inspector, the doctor is a very busy man and he often does not make house calls. If you will not cooperate, I shall have to force you."

She could tell by the sound of his voice that he meant it. She hoped he could tell by the way her feet stayed rooted to the spot that she meant business as well. A pitiful sigh came from behind her and two…no, _three_ pairs of feet came trampling into the room. What joy. Another work out, as if she hadn't gotten one only an hour or so earlier.

The goons came for her, and she dispensed with them easily, in no time flat, really. She used a considerable amount of rage this time as well, letting it shine through by engaging in some fairly vicious and painful attacks that left the three men sprawling on the floor around her. She hadn't seen any of the three men before, but that didn't matter to her. Moriarty was trying to psych her out, pulling on a vast criminal empire to scare her into submission. It wasn't going to work.

Her eyes narrowed as she saw the ionizer that had materialized in her foe's hand, and she backed up against the wall, looking from the three men still on the ground to Moriarty. Her eye's said it all; Force me.

**Wanted: Criminal Dynasty**

"Holmes!"

The detective glanced up from the computer he'd commandeered and fixed Watson with a gaze.

"The ancestral home of the Dukes of Suffolk; I've found it!"

Holmes nearly knocked over the chair as he got up and rushed over to the terminal Watson had planted himself at. One look at the area and Holmes beamed. "By Jove, you've got it, old man! Splendid!"

"It is the perfect place for Moriarty; close to New London, but not too close, remote, guarded by the sea, and perfect to fit his vanity," Holmes leaned over the console and pressed the intercom. "Chief Inspector, if you would be so kind as to mount up a rescue mission? I know where Inspector Lestrade is."

"You'd better be right Holmes, or the Chief's will have my head for this over expenditure on one of your guesses-"

"I never guess, Chief Inspector. I merely use my eyes and my brains and careful, logical deduction. Lestrade obviously had very little time to send a message, so she sent one which would not only give us her location, but the residence in which she was being held, and, she sent it in the form of a data burst to the at large NSY computer core." Sherlock hurried into Grayson's office and came back out, shrugging on his Inverness and securing his deerstalker to his head. "You were saying earlier there was a reason you made her an inspector at such a young age; she has obviously proven your choice a correct one."

Watson cleared his throat. "Holmes, how do you propose we get close enough to the house without arousing suspicion?"

"I shall leave that up to the Chief Inspector," he glanced at Grayson. "I ask only that Watson and I be allowed the same uniforms as your Concealed Attack Teams wear?"

Grayson nodded. "But lemme tell you something Holmes; you may do as you like on your own cases, but once you put on that uniform, you're under the orders of the commanding officer of the team you're accompanying!"

"My dear Chief Inspector; who said I was going to be a part of that team?" Holmes looked shocked, as though wondering how the man could think such a thing. "Consider this if you will: if myself and Watson are to look like all of your officers, we will not be recognized, and will be able to find Moriarty much easier than if we were to attend this rescue such as we are now. Any movement on that mansion will be watched, and once either Watson or I are spotted, Moriarty will double his speed to escape. He thinks of the New Scotland Yard officers as mere parasites at best and will most likely toy with them for however long he feels comfortable, giving us, and Lestrade, once she is freed and in my custody, the chance to over take him and bring him to justice."

After a moment of thinking about it, Grayson nodded. "Pick the uniforms up downstairs. I'll let them know you're coming…but one thing Holmes; once you've apprehended Moriarty, you are to notify the commanders on the ground ASA-immediately. Do I make myself clear?"

Holmes nodded, tipped his hat and moved out of conversing range with the Chief Inspector. The man had things to do, plans to organize, assault teams to order around, and Holmes had some preparing to do of his own.

"Holmes?"

"Yes, Watson?"

"You do realize that you referred to rescuing Inspector Lestrade as putting her in _your_ custody?"

As the two reached the elevator, Holmes pressed the down button and turned to his best friend and confidant, a resigned look on his face, his lips turned upward with just the hint of a confident smile on them. "I do." The elevator doors swished open and he ambled inside, trying to think of a way to put what he wanted to say to Watson without sounding like an over done romantic man in the throes of love and passion.

"I may cling to logic, old friend, but…"

"It is what sustains you. That is only natural, Holmes." Watson stepped in and pressed a few buttons. The elevator immediately began to descend.

"Yes. But logic doesn't make the man." A confused look came over the robot and Holmes chuckled. "When your other self married his wife, Mary, he told me that nothing made a man so complete as finding his other half in a woman. Naturally I was elated for him, that a man could find such happiness and contentment. Mary Watson was indeed a woman ahead of her time, but traditional enough that she didn't intimidate most of the men she came across due to the business of her husband and her husbands' dear friend…myself."

The elevator hit the bottom floor and both men hurried out of it and to the C.A.T. sector of the NSY building. As promised, the secretary who received them had ready two separate uniforms, complete with boots and masks. They both thanked her and left as quickly as they'd arrived, and Holmes continued the conversation as they made their way quickly to their hover coach.

"I spent my last life a recluse, Watson, a man devoted entirely to the solving of crimes and mysteries. I do not regret that decision, as I did not fancy a majority of the female population back then." Watson pressed the deactivation on the alarm system and opened the coach, sliding in and Holmes doing the same on the passenger side.

"Now that I am in this life, and have found a woman that I can feel a mutual admiration, respect, affection, and love for, I shall do everything in my power to ensure I hold on to her. Like any man who has had his lover taken, I feel as though I have failed in that regard, and like any man who was told the probable reason for her kidnapping, I have a particular blood lust for the perpetrator."

As the hover coach rose in the air and joined the airborne traffic pattern, Watson cast a sympathetic gaze his passenger's way. "Is there anything you would like me to do?"

Holmes' mouth was a thin line as he answered. "Keep me under control."

**Wanted: Criminal Dynasty**

"You're a cooke, you know that?! What kind of doctor are you anyways? Do you realize what you're doing?! You're evaluating a human body without that body's express permi-_watch where you point that!"_

"She's very loud, isn't she?" Moriarty shook his head as he looked on in glee and fascination as Lestrade was placed on a table, the ionizer bands still firmly clinging to her body. The doctor, bless his heart, was doing his best to try to calm the inspector, but the woman was having none of it. Moriarty thought as much, which was why he stepped away and over to a considerably large coolant cabinet with various medicines' enshrined within and chose a hydro-spray that was already loaded with a heavy cocktail of sedatives. Weapon as it was in hand, he turned around and walked slowly over to where Lestrade was still busy taking the head of off the doctor verbally.

"Elizabeth, we can perform this physical one of two ways; you can either be awake and calm, or you can be asleep and calm. Either way, we will not have any more outbursts, am I making myself clear?"

For a split second, Lestrade considered continuing her struggle, but thought better of it. If tomorrow came and she still wasn't awake, she'd want to be able to fight then too. For right now, it was just a physical, something that could be done in five minutes flat, and with a bio-scanner of all things. All she had to do was be still and be quiet for that period of time.

During the night, she would figure a way out.

"Thank you. Doctor, if you would be so kind."

**Wanted: Criminal Dynasty**

Uniforms donned and coordinates obtained from Grayson, Watson and Holmes were flying through air traffic north east bound. They were ahead of schedule, which was a good thing. Holmes wanted to get the hover coach parked and hidden far enough away from the mansion so they wouldn't be spotted, but that meant they would both have quite a hike ahead of them, and would need time to get into position.

For the first 15 minutes of the flight, Watson did his ready best to try to convince his friend to carry an ionizer on his person, but Holmes would have none of it. His extendable metal cane was more than enough of a weapon for him, coupled with his considerable physical skills in combat; Moriarty's goons did not have a habit of being particularly bright or incredibly well versed in hand to hand.

But there was more to it than that, Watson figured. Holmes wanted to be close to this fight, he wanted to feel it. He didn't want the long distance use of an ionizer or the ease of a blinding blast of light from a flash bomb; he wanted this fight to be hands on, _his hands_ on them. The droid had a feeling that he would be seeing a side of Sherlock Holmes tonight that few ever got to see, and that rarely ever shone through.

The flight was going to take another 45 minutes at best. Besides the few short comments on what would happen once they landed and once the C.A.T. unit from NSY touched down and released their own particular brand of fury, the cabin of the coach was silent.

**Wanted: Criminal Dynasty**

Moriarty stared at the bio-scanner in his hand. Inspector Lestrade had been taken back to her room a few minutes ago, angrier than he'd ever had the privilege of seeing or making her, and before he'd seen the results, he had wallowed in that knowledge in a state of mirth that he had continued to feel since her arrival at the manor.

Now however, as he stood up and looked at the doctor, his happiness was quickly replaced with frustration. "There must be some mistake."

"No mistake, Sir," to his credit, the doctor was standing firm on his results, "to ensure accuracy, the equipment was tested twice before I arrived here. The results are the results. There is no way to change them."

Well. This certainly set things back on his end. Nodding at the doctor, bio-scanner in hand, he left the medical facility out the double doors and headed up the stairs, his heeled boots marking the territory his feet touched with loud stamps as he entered the first floor from the basement and crossed the carpeted front lobby.

He made it down the hall in record time and even the guards that stood outside Lestrades' door moved aside as soon as they saw the fury in their employer's face, but as Moriarty put his hands on the knob he stopped himself for a moment, attempting to gain some of his self control back. He could turn this into a positive thing, he knew he could, he just had to figure out how. This could be beneficial for him. He just had to figure out _how_. Inhaling slowly and letting it out, he opened the door.

**Wanted: Criminal Dynasty**

For some reason, the first thing that caught Lestrade's gaze was the object in Moriarty's hand. From the distance she was at, she couldn't tell exactly what it was, but she was sure she'd be finding out in due time. Right now though, she just wanted to be left alone. The good Professor had interrupted one of her many plans for escape, and the quicker he left was the sooner she could get back to plotting and planning her way out.

When Moriarty still said nothing, Beth side and came around from the other side of the bed, standing just right of the center of the room. She said one word.

"What."

He held up the object in his hand and Beth shrugged. "I can't see what that is."

"This, my dear Inspector Lestrade, is the bio-scanner which was used on you just moments ago." He tossed it into his other hand, looking at her with…something in his eyes, Beth couldn't tell exactly what, but she knew that she didn't like it. He knew something, something that he was going to tell her, otherwise he wouldn't be here. But he wasn't going to like it. Well, that certainly brightened her spirits.

"Did you not like the blood type I have or something? Found I have too much black tea in my system?" She grinned, watching his nostrils' flare. He was _angry_, he was hiding it well, but he was angry. His eyes were narrowing as well. "I do converse a lot with Holmes and Watson, and you know how that detective likes his tea and crumpets next to a roaring fire…"

"Miss. Lestrade, I would take care were I you; I have just discovered that because of your recklessness, I cannot complete my desired goal."

"Yea, well, I am known for that," she grinned, crossing her arms. Moriarty ignored her.

"Your progesterone levels are raised considerably, as is your estrogen level. Your base body temperature is raised slightly; your blood sugar is low, as is your blood pressure." His stare was almost accusatory, and Beth, for the life of her (literally), could not figure out what Moriarty was getting at. He continued on, coming ever closer to her as the bio-scanner was becoming a more fixed object to concentrate on. "I will remind you that one of the maids cleaned up the vomit when you wretched a day ago." He stopped in front of her and showed her the screen of the scanner. Taking the hint, she looked at it. She looked at it again.

A third time and she swallowed, stepping back. The grin was wiped off her face almost immediately, replaced by a look of shock. She managed to croak out a "how" and Moriarty sneered. "When a man and woman love each other…."

Lestrade glared at him before turning away, trying to get a handle on the huge change she'd just been shown.

"Yes, inspector, according to this scanner, you are With Child; precisely four weeks and three days along." Lestrade could just hear the grin and glee in his voice as he saddled up behind her.

"I would ask who the lucky man is that you've been seeing, but I'll bet I could get the answer in three guesses…I probably wouldn't even need the first two."


	9. Chapter 9

**Authors Notes: I was surprised, were you surprised, I was surprised! I actually was surprised when the story veered itself in this manner. However, for me, it seems to fit, and there is more where that came from. We are nearing the end, though not there yet, and even at the end of this tale, there will be one or two unresolved issues. I look forward to writing the sequel! **

**Wanted: Criminal Dynasty**

"Look there; did you see that?"

Holmes followed Watson's line of sight from his pointing finger and squinted slightly. There, in the distance, the two could just make out the flashing of a small beam of light. For a few moments, the light continued to flick on and off at variable rates. When Holmes looked away, he had a smirk on his face as he punched a few buttons on his wrist watch and rose from his position.

"Holmes?" Watson looked at him, confused.

"An old form of signaling called Morse Code, my good man. No doubt I've told you about it before, and now you've just seen it in action." The blonde man began to make his way towards the manor at a steady pace. Watson scrambled up after him.

The suits that had been provided for both men were certainly doing the trick of hiding them. At one point, Watson was finding it difficult to tell if Holmes was truly standing next to him in the darkening forest, or if it was simply a human shaped bush. Even though his sensors registered a human body in front of him, the droid had no problems believing that if he were human himself, he may have mistaken the man for a plant.

"Holmes, what was said to you?"

"The C.A.T. commander communicated to me that he and his team are set to storm the manor in a matter of five minutes. When such time arises, I prefer to be as close to my quarry as possible, rather than spend all my time and energy running this lose half mile towards the house." As he spoke, Holmes dodged vines, limbs, bushes, and sticks on the ground, creating an easy path for Watson behind him to follow.

In nearly no time at all, they had reached a rather comfortable and concealed spot, a perch that was very near the front entrance and was at the beginning of a clear path towards the doors. Holmes glanced at his watch; 90 seconds. He nodded at Watson and took a few deep breaths, steadying his lungs and his heart for the small amount of time he had before he, Watson, and about 20 of New Scotland Yard's elite officers would forcibly infiltrate Moriarty's stronghold.

He stole a glance at Watson. Good old Watson, who never failed or deserted him, a man who, both in his past life, and in this one, would follow him into a burning house or onto a sinking ship if asked to do so.

"My friend, if I may ask a favor?" Watson waited, nodding his head for the man to continue. "Elizabeth would remove my head from my neck if she thought I was putting her acquirement above the capture of Moriarty, and, logically speaking, she'd be right to do so. However, I cannot promise that if I find her before I find Moriarty that I will be inclined to leave her side. Therefore-"

Watson held up a hand and smiled. "Do not worry, old friend. I will keep all eyes, ears, and sensors on look out for our friendly felon. I will be most happy to apprehend him…for both your sakes." He squeezed Holmes' shoulder and the latter grasped it tightly with his own gloved hand. "Thank you, Watson." He glanced at his watch.

30 seconds.

**Wanted: Criminal Dynasty**

Moriarty chuckled at the still shocked look on the young woman's face. It seemed she truly had no earlier idea of her condition. Well, what a way to find out!

"I suppose it was only natural; fate, destiny, if you will that you and his paths should cross in such a manner. Why, in some ways, you follow him as though you were a lost puppy, consistently seeking his approval and praise. I suppose you found it any way that you could."

"And Holmes!" James barked out a laugh at the name of his nemesis, "The thought of Sherlock Holmes actually being a father should make any woman's stomach churn and their head spin with questions. Do you imagine for even the slightest moment that he, the greatest detective this world has ever known can be bothered with something so trivial as a bouncing baby boy or girl that he must clean up after every day and night?" He was so enjoying the look of sickness on Lestrade's face, he almost took pity on her. He did stop his antagonistic rhetoric for the moment however.

"You may just be better off staying under my care for the duration of your pregnancy. I can hardly imagine you stopping in the middle of a high speed air chase to run home for a feeding…ah yes, what an _interesting_ pair of parents the both of you will make-"

The flash of light came through the window so quickly and with such brightness that Lestrade dropped to the ground out of instinct, habit, and training. As soon as she hit the floor, Beth knew what it was, and she immediately pinched her nose shut and closed her eyes. She had only a few seconds to get to the door, a few precious seconds that she knew Moriarty would be incapacitated. Placing her forearm in front of her face and cracking the lids of her eyes open just slightly to protect from the searing pain that she knew would cause stinging tears in a few moments, she charged to where she knew the door would be and flung it open.

The men outside (she couldn't really tell if there were two or three) luckily jumped back as the smoke and gas began to filter out into the hallway. Not smelling any of the substance out there but knowing that within moments, a familiar C.A.T. team would be storming the mansion, she barreled through the one man on her left who fell to the floor, too surprised to try to defend himself. She heard one of them yell at her to stop, but stop she absolutely did not and would not.

"_You idiot! Don't come in here! Go after her, stop her!"_

And there was Moriarty, obviously recovered after the gas had faded from his eyes and the flash of light had made him stop seeing stars and sparkles. She picked up the pace, hearing glass crashing in and doors banging open with every other step she hurriedly took. Just ahead, she could see the stair case and she put on a burst of speed, streaking around the corner and running into the foyer just as the main doors burst open and a flock of specially trained New Scotland Yard officers poured in, ionizer's raised. Beth immediately held her hands up, standing straight and still as at least five ionizers pointed her way, the members of the team ordering her to cease her movements, which Beth, petrified as she was by being possibly shot with multiple blasts of the weapons being held, had no problem doing. The uniform that was in front and center walked up to her and nodded. "You can put your arms down now, Inspector Lestrade." He brought his wrist to his mouth as he spoke.

"Commander, the principle has been obtained. Lestrade is in our custody."

Beth watched as the squad continued to run by her, and she shouted to the small group that passed by Moriarty's location. When she turned back to the C.A.T. officer in front of her, she finally allowed herself a small smile. "You really don't have a clue how happy I am to see you guys."

**Wanted: Criminal Dynasty**

"He's down that hall guys, the open door on your right!"

Holmes heard Beth's instructions and willed himself to keep running with the other three men that were in the group he and Watson had conspicuously joined. As much as he wanted to go to her and escort her to the units waiting himself, he knew he needed to assist in Moriarty's capture.

Much to his displeasure, Moriarty was nowhere in the room Lestrade had indicated, but Holmes had not had much hope of finding the man there in the first place. There was a poor old chap lying on the floor, apparently still confused as to his whereabouts, the gas wreaking havoc on his eyes, and the men that entered the room quickly took him into custody, but not before Holmes marched up to him and, grabbing him by the shirt collar, pulled him close to his face.

"Where is he?"

Granted, the felon was quaking in fear, but Holmes had not a care for that. He wanted his answer, he wanted it presently, and this was someone who could give it to him. He shook the man rather violently. "Answer me; where has Moriarty gone?"

Apparently his voice, and the fact that he was surrounded by four other men, all armed, all dressed in black, and all looking particularly uncaring about his future health prospects was enough to make the man spit out the answer.

"A-air hang-g-ger….t-top floor."

Holmes furrowed his brow. "How did he manage to get there?"

"There's a…a passage way…behind the ma-main st-st-staircase…"

Dropping the man on the ground, Holmes pell melled out the door, the large and bulky robotic sounds of Watson's echoing after him as they both made their way back down the hallway and to the grand stair case which, upon closer inspection (and honestly, it wasn't hard to discover), found the slightly lighter colored panel which sloped up ward, following the staircase.

He looked quickly to ensure Beth was not still standing in the foyer, and when he saw that she was being led outside by the C.A.T. officer, saw that she was undoubtedly safe now, he forged ahead through the passage, which, once it reached the point where the solid hallway above would be, crossed it, and continued straight upwards, apparently between would be the paneling of two rooms.

**Wanted: Criminal Dynasty**

"James, what's going on?"

"No time to explain, my dear; please, come aboard." James lifted the hatch and Annabelle climbed in quickly, settling herself on the passenger side. "Were you able to obtain what I needed?"

Annabelle held out a closed fist and opened her fingers delicately, revealing a small test tube filled with a red substance. "The passage out of my room was quite easy to follow, as was the one from the basement leading here. But I don't understand…what do you want this for?"

"I will explain all in due time, Anne. Suffice to say that you must wait a little while longer to become pregnant, and that when you do, I shall deliver a double blow to Sherlock Holmes, the likes of which he could never have deduced." As he began to fire the thrusters on his hover ship, Anne glanced up and out of the front windshield. "Speak of the devil, and he shall appear."

Moriarty looked up and, much to his surprise, and not at all to his care, found Holmes running towards the small air ship, and though the criminal knew as he began to lift off that there was no hope for Holmes of catching him, he also couldn't fail to notice the maddening look of pure murder in the man's eyes. None the less, he sent a charming smile his 'old friends' way and mockingly made the gesture of tipping his hat. With the roofs ceiling peeled back fully to allow safe passage, Moriarty piloted the ship up and out of the mansion and took off into the skies, the white smoke of an ion trail the only evidence he'd been there at all.

**Wanted: Criminal Dynasty**

Holmes could only stand and watch as the cruiser lifted up and out of sight. Moriarty had escaped again, and once more, Holmes was left to watch him ride away. Except that this time, there was not the feeling of certainty that he would apprehend the man the next time. Instead, Sherlock felt an anger swirling within him that he'd never felt before, a frustration with his failure to catch Moriarty yet again. What would it take for him to be able to bring that man to justice?

Silently, he glanced at Watson who, like him, had taken his hood off while they'd been trampling through the passageways. The droid could only look back at him with an expression of sympathy, a look that told Holmes he understood what the detective was feeling. There used to be a time, years ago, when Holmes had first met the compudroid when the man would laugh out loud at the ridiculous assertion that a machine could understand, let alone take part in human emotion. But all things considered, Sherlock had no doubts now that Watson could very well empathize with him. Pursing his lips together, he brought his wrist up to his mouth.

"Moriarty has escaped, Commander. Watson and I shall be arriving outside presently."

**Wanted: Criminal Dynasty**

When he finally walked through the wide open doors of the mansion to the outside world, Holmes surveyed the controlled chaos that was taking place on the grounds. The men that had been under Moriarty's employment who had not managed to escape were all standing together, metal cuffs binding their wrists behind their backs. Just in case one of them was clever enough to pick the lock, there were plenty of officers standing guard to ensure that unlucky soul would be wrapped in the beams of an ionizer shot.

His eyes continued to roam over the crowd, watching the hustling and bustling of bodies and droids until he found what he was looking for. Almost immediately, one foot was put in front of the other, but he was hardly down the steps when Holmes made himself slow down and regain control.

He could not rush up to her as he wanted. He could not show any more than was expected and appropriate at how happy he was to see her alive, unharmed, and what seemed to be no worse for the wear. He couldn't gather her in his arms, or whisper to her how much her absence had pained him. He couldn't even kiss her in greeting.

Holmes decided he did not care to keep their relationship a secret any longer, and while he would have gladly made up Lestrade's mind for her on that issue, he knew it would be simply wrong to do so, especially considering what she'd just been through.

Forcing his stride to one of quick pace, but not an outright run, he made his way through the crowd impatiently until he arrived at Beth's side. She was dressed as she was three days ago; simple civilian clothes, very Lestrade-like, nothing frilly or flowery about them. They were wrinkled well, probably from having been slept in, and there were what appeared to be a few spots of a dark substance which Holmes assumed to be blood on the lower part of her blouse. As he could see no visible open wounds however, he didn't believe the blood belonged to her. His eyes did however catch the area on her chin where a nasty bruise had formed. Holmes's blood boiled and chilled all at once. It didn't matter to him that Beth was, in some ways, a better melee fighter than he; Moriarty or one of his goons had put their hands on her.

"Holmes?"

"Lestrade," the detective came back to his senses, greeting the woman with a smile and nod, "I trust you are all together?" His response was a nod, a wan smile, but her body language betrayed her feelings. She stood rigid, arms crossed tightly over her chest protecting herself, back against the squad hover car, and even though she was surrounded by a swarm of C.A.T. commando's and NSY constables, her eyes were darting this way and that.

_Damn the secrecy…_

"Inspector Lestrade, it is very good to have you back!" Watson's enthusiasm was somewhat contagious, as it at least made her smile widen and brighter, and it even caused Holmes to throw a grin her way. But then he remembered her expression only moments before, the uncertainty still taking up residence in her eyes, and he turned abruptly to the constable she'd been speaking with.

"Constable, do you have everything you need for now? I'm sure the inspector could do with a hot meal and plenty of rest…"

"Well, Mr. Holmes, we still need to-"

"Excellent; Watson, if you would be so kind as to bring the hovercoach around? I would hate to have our dear Beth walk half a mile to her transportation after the Hell she has had to endure."

Without so much as a beat, Watson, ready and willing, happily departed with all due speed towards the tree line and soon disappeared behind it. Meanwhile, the constable continued his sputtering, and Lestrade continued her silent streak, which was causing Holmes more worry by the minute.

"Sir, we have not fully debriefed Inspector Lestrade…the…the Chief Constable and Chief Inspector will want full reports detailing her capture, her time here.."

"And they will have all that and more, my good man, but as you can see, the Inspector is hardly up for a chat about her recent forced vacation, and you may find that when she has had time to rest and gather her thoughts, she will be able to provide you a much more complete report than she could now. I shall take the responsibility, as I normally do, of putting the proverbial pain in Chief Inspector Grayson's' arse." The tone of Sherlock Holmes' voice made it clear that this was the end of the conversation. Placing a gentle hand on Lestrade's elbow, he slowly steered her away from the constable and the commotion and hullabaloo that surrounded them and walked her towards the more open spaces of the perimeter.

"Do you know why he did it?" Beth finally asked when they stopped half way between the tree line and the full, main grounds of the ancestral home. "Did you figure out what he wanted me for?"

"I did." Holmes didn't know how to ask her without being seemingly offensive and insensitive if he had gotten what he'd wanted. _May the good Lord help him if he succeeded._ He breathed a sigh of relief when she shook her head. "He didn't do it. He couldn't."

Holmes arched an eyebrow at that. Moriarty becoming sentimental and sympathetic at the last minute? Hardly possible or feasible. Holmes turned towards Beth, standing in front of her and took in her stance. Her arms were still folded tightly over each other, her body remained tense, and even though he didn't have eyes in the back of his head, the detective was fairly certain that Beth hadn't even really looked at him since they'd been reunited. "What stopped him?" he finally asked, and he was shocked when she shook her head and actually turned away from him. His stomach lurched. What had he done? What had he said? "Beth?"

"Holmes, please…please, I can't right now, okay?"

He didn't have to look at her to know that she was doing something that she rarely ever did, even in front of him. Wisely, he ceased his questioning immediately and instead rested his hands on her shoulders, eventually pulling her against him and holding her tightly. Damn whomever was watching, they were going to find out sooner or later, and at this point, he couldn't care less if Moriarty found out either. He was never more grateful to Watson than he was at that moment when his friend flew over the tree tops and settled the hovercoach down a few yards away from the couple. Without a word, Holmes ushered Lestrade forward and opened the back door for her, sliding in and pulling it closed as soon as they were both settled.

The ride home was a quietest any of the three had ever experienced.

**Wanted: Criminal Dynasty**

Climbing the steps up to 221b was the last strenuous task Lestrade planned on performing for at least the next few days…it was _almost_ the last strenuous task she planned on performing. As Holmes opened the door and both he and Watson ushered her in, her mind swirled around the little one that was growing, slowly but surely in her belly. She heard Watson say something about fetching some blankets, pillows, and tea and she was pretty sure she thanked him. She also saw Holmes drawing the curtains of the windows closed and plunging the room into artificial dusk. He walked around the room, turning the lights onto low settings, and immediately after lit the fire in the hearth. When he was finished, he walked back over to her and offered her his hand. She hesitated only a moment, and then slowly placed hers in his.

Watson walked back into the living room then, a bundle of soft, secure blankets and plush pillows in his arms. "Make yourself comfortable, Inspector, I shall be out with the tea shortly, and then, you will rest."

"Watson-"

"Beth." Holmes looked at her, knowing she was getting ready to argue, and she relented. She had no real fight in her at the moment anyway. It had all been used up the past few days. And she wasn't sure where it was coming from, but she was beginning to feel slightly nauseas. She chuckled bitterly as she lay on the settee. _I wonder why that is?_

She'd thought about it the entire flight back to Baker Street. _How_ could this have happened? They'd been so careful,_ so_ very careful. The small amount of time that they had together alone was infrequent enough, and the moments they were actually able to copulate were even fewer. She'd watched her cycle so meticulously…but then, she'd always been irregular. Nothing, not even contraception pills, had ever made it an even, monthly cycle. Even when she'd been prescribed the highest dosage of contraception, it had only raised her progesterone levels slightly. It never mimicked pregnancy…they just didn't work. She snorted at the irony of it all.

She was aware Holmes was watching her, worry written all over his face, and she shook her head, shifting her body to see him better. At the same time, his hand snaked to cup her chin and she grasped at him gently. "Did Moriarty do this?" Holmes nodded at her jaw, and Beth remembered the bruise there. She shook her head. "One of his guys. Don't worry…I took care of him…at least, I think I punched him in the mouth at one point…" she smirked again and cocked her head. "Sherlock-"

"I have tea," Watson announced, walking into the living room and around the settee. Lestrade closed her eyes, pursing her lips together as she heard the clang of the tray on the table. "Thanks, Watson." Sitting up, she reached for the tea pot, but Holmes beat her to it. "Lay back down," he commanded gently. Lestrade furrowed her brow. "And how am I supposed to drink it if I'm lying flat on my back?"

Well. The detective couldn't exactly fight that logic, so Beth remained sitting as she was while Watson began looking at her injuries, which only amounted to the bruise on her jaw, and two recent hydro-spray marks, one on each arm. Watson asked about them.

"One was from a sedative he gave me to sleep the first night I was captured; the second one is from tonight…the doctor he contracted to give me a physical took some blood from me…" her tongue flicked out nervously to wet her lips, "he uh…he wanted to make sure I was completely healthy before…"

It really was physically impossible for her to say the rest, her stomach actually lurched to even think about it anymore, and so much so that she refused the tea Holmes offered to her. "Watson, I hate to ask you this but…"

"Say no more, my dear. You do need your rest after all, and I can only do so much to facilitate your recovery and comfort. I shall be recharging in my room if you need me."

"Thanks, Watson." Lestrade smiled after him as the droid retreated to his room. She heard the soft thud of his door hitting the frame and leaned back against the settee, closing her eyes momentarily.

"Beth?"

"Hmmm."

"You said Moriarty was unable to perform the procedure?" Beth nodded, shifting her head and opening her eyes once more to look at him. The fire danced over his shoulder in the fireplace and the light from the hearth cast a rather handsome shadow over his face.

"And he didn't…." Holmes swallowed. Beth waited. "He did not attempt any…unseemly kind of relation with you, did he?" Again, Lestrade shook her head and murmured "no" quietly. Absent mindedly, her hand moved to her stomach and she rested it there while her other hand reached for Holmes. Thankfully, he took it and kissed the tips of her fingers gently. She sighed shakily, both from her nerves and from the feeling of being near him again after three days of being shut away from the world. Presently, he was examining her hand as though it were the Holy Grail, and she didn't want to break this wonderful, lovely, amazingly peaceful moment with him, not even for the news she was, quite literally, bearing.

"What made him stop?"

Lestrade frowned, not quiet understanding. "What do you mean?"

"Moriarty...what was it that made him unable to complete his plan?"

"Funny you should ask that, really," Beth tried to grin, but it didn't come off anywhere in the realm of being believable, and Holmes glowered at her. "Why do I have the feeling that the use of the word 'funny' has an entirely different meaning other than how it is typically used?" He watched as worried her bottom lip, and that worried him. "Beth, what is it?"

Taking as slow and calming a breath as she possibly could, Lestrade leaned forward, placing the hand that had been resting comfortably on her stomach and moving it over Holmes' hand which was gripping hers ever tighter. God, how was she supposed to tell him? How in the world was she supposed to tell him that after all their caution and careful planning, that fate had handed them the ultimate gift?

But sitting here, shaking like a leaf, despite the now roaring fire in the fire place and staring at their joined hands was not going to help or solve matters in any way, shape, or form. She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath.

"Sherlock; I'm pregnant."

~Fini~

**Authors Ending Notes: I hadn't planned on leaving it here, but as I was writing it, the story's natural conclusion simply ended here. I'm working on the sequel starting tomorrow, and I really hope that you guys have enjoyed what I've put up so far. The first chapter of the second part of this series (I suppose that's what you'd call it…I'd like to do a trilogy) will be up by this Sunday. Until then, feel free to PM me and review telling me what you like or want to see developed, so on and so forth! **


	10. Chapter 10

**Authors Note: Eh, the temptation was just too great, and I wanted something to set up the next story. So, here now be an epilogue, taking place two months after the last chapter. Enjoy!**

**Epilogue**

The study was of dim lighting currently. It was sometime after midnight, that much Moriarty knew as he swirled the brandy around in the snifter taking sporadic sips whenever the desire hit him as he gazed out the window. He really had done remarkably well for himself. To be run out of one hide out by the New Scotland Yard and immediately have one of a dozen to choose from was quite the achievement. It really was. This strong hold was not as grand as his last one, but it was remote, it served his purposes well, and the woman he'd brought along seemed to enjoy it.

It was done. The one thing he wanted most in the world had finally been completed. It had been no small task either. After multiple tests on her, Moriarty had discovered that it was Annabelle's white blood cells determining that a pregnancy was something it was supposed to attack rather than protect was the problem. It had been a common problem amongst women in the early 19 hundreds, but there had been no cure or treatment for the problem until the late 20th century.

Now, the treatment had been perfected, and Anne was coming along nicely at a mere 14 days of conception. A simple volley of hydro-spray injections filled with his own white blood cells to build up a tolerance for the in-vitro to take place had done the trick. Now all that was to happen was to wait for Anne to come to full term, and Moriarty would have the beginnings of his dynasty, a legacy which, he snickered to himself, would have its own problems and conflicts to contend with.

Yes, the zealot would be coming to full term in six months, a new bouncing little life for the young woman and her companion. Moriarty still had to laugh at the thought of Sherlock Holmes being a father. So flighty was the man that once he figured out the quirks his child held, he would become utterly bored with it and move onto something else.

Then again, such was the man's passion for those he held dear to him that Moriarty was sure he would have a new kind of detective to contend with in 180 days. And Moriarty also had to admit that children were a continual mystery. If they weren't, a parent would have written a novel on the proper procedures of how to keep one's offspring in line for the rest of their lives. And Moriarty had no plans to be a 'Dad' so much as he had aspirations to be a strong father and mentor to the young one who would take on his job one day. Teaching his heirs (and yes, there would be heirs, plural, now that he knew he could bypass Anne's barrenness) the philosophy of life that he ascribed to so that no one group of people could gain too much power over an individual was the chief concern on his mind. Let their mother nurture and love them as mothers tended to do. He would be their strong and firm hand.

That was how it was going to be.

His well trained ears caught the sounds of a door sliding into the wall. "You should be asleep."

"I should be, shouldn't I?" It wasn't often that Annabelle agreed with him so willingly, and Moriarty had to smirk at her tone. She really had changed remarkably from the first time he'd met her. Gone was her silly, girlish tendency to care about frivolities, and come to replace that was a woman who saw the bigger picture. "But, I can't sleep. I've slept all day, if only to keep that woman you've hired to watch me day and night off my back."

Moriarty snorted. "You don't like her?"

His only response was a glower which he shrugged in response to. "I shall dismiss her tomorrow morning. What is it specifically that I shall fire her for?"

"She's annoying me. She talks constantly; I don't think she has an off button. She also has an issue with understanding that it's me who tells her what to do, and not the other way around. Her position would afford her the reach to see and hear many, many things, and with her chattering to anyone who will listen, I simply don't trust her."

"Very well," Moriarty nodded. "I shall send her packing first thing, and then you will choose your next aide, provided I approve of your choice."

That conversation settled, Annabelle sidled up and leaned against the leather high-backed, Victorian chair Moriarty sat in. "While we're on the subject of sleeping, why aren't you?"

"I am waiting for news on my other project from Monsieur Fenwick. It seems all is well, but I shall not rest until I have spoken with him regarding his progress thus far." He felt small hands descend on his shoulders, beginning to massage away the tension that had taken route there.

"Fenwick is quite competent. He brought you back from the dead, so to speak," he could hear the laughter in her voice as she continued to work his muscles, and he swirled the brandy and took a sip again. "I would not worry, James. You will have your present delivered to you in time…both of them." With that she ceased her ministrations and rounded the chair, perching herself on his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck. "Meanwhile…" she lowered her mouth to the crook of his neck and began nipping at it.

"My bed is cold."

**Epilogue**

Beth fiddled with the small band around her ring finger, wondering how her life had come to this point. Oh, of course she _knew_, she'd been there for all of it, she had a fantastic memory. From the first time Holmes had kissed her as they fought in the rain to their first official date, moving onto their official courting, the first time they'd slept together….she knew how it had come to pass. Better to say that she was wondering if it had all been fate or if had been something that just happened….

A shrill whistle shrieked through her thoughts and she jumped up from the kitchen table to grab the boiling water off the stove. Through the first trimester, Beth had found that she was craving tea none stop. She drank it whenever she could, and that included at…she squinted at the old ticking clock Holmes kept atop the cabinet…3:37 in the morning. When she finished pouring the tea, she rummaged in the cooler for the milk and came out with a bottle of it, slipping some into the mug before returning it to its chilly home. As she sat down once more, she glanced at the synthetic p.j. shorts she was wearing. In a few months, she wouldn't be able to fit these anymore. She wouldn't be able to cross her legs, or see her feet over a bulging baby tummy…

"This is gonna be weird," she murmured into her cup before taking a sip, letting the warmth flow through her, ignoring the padding of feet that came from down the hallway and finally into the kitchen.

Clad in his ever comfortable robe and long pajama pants and matching long sleeved shirt, Holmes looked like he'd never entered the 21st century. Lestrade shook her head in amusement as she took in her never changing husband…husband was just a strange thing to call him, she'd decided a long time ago. But it certainly didn't fail to make her feel divine when she thought it, and that was all that mattered.

"We really must stop meeting like this," Sherlock muttered, taking the kettle from the stove top and dropping a readily available tea bag into a cup, immediately pouring water over it. "You seem to have a developed a habit for early morning tea time. You do realize that the tradition is generally held at four in the afternoon?"

Beth shrugged. "You know how I am about tradition…we don't really see eye to eye." Holmes snort made her grin; that was an understatement if he'd ever heard one, she knew that's what. "You are not feeling unwell, I trust?"

"Nope, not this morning," Beth kicked the leg of the chair next to hers out and Holmes plopped down in it, crossing his legs as well and placing his own tea cup on the table. "I'm hoping as I go into the second trimester that the vomiting is a thing of the past. I've had more than my fair share of losing my stomach!"

"It is safe to say I have had enough of that as well," Holmes twinkled as he picked up his cup and took a sip. "Though I love and respect you, and would do anything in the world for you as your husband in adhering to the vows we took, I must confess that holding your hair while you wretch is not the way I would choose to spend my mornings."

Beth raised an eyebrow, eyes glinting somewhat warningly. "You could be the one vomiting, you know…"

"Point taken," Holmes wisely back tracked and flashed her a winning smile which he hoped would win him some brownie points at such an early time, and her forgiving smirk thrown in his general direction told him that he was indeed off the hook for such a hair brained statement. "You are scheduled to be at work in three hours…you should return to bed."

"I can't sleep."

"Why?"

"I've slept all day? At your 'request', may I remind you?"

"Quite right!" It was Holmes turn to send her a rather scathing look. "Women in your condition should have plenty of rest. You needn't over exert yourself, Beth."

"Since when has watching the news been seen as over exertion?"

"My dear Elizabeth, the amount of stupidity that comes through the holo-news is enough to cause an aneurism to occur in my brain more than half the time. You'll excuse me if I'd rather not see that fate befall you."

"You're driving me insane, you know that?" She pushed the mug of tea away slightly and crossed her arms, looking for all the world like a petulant child. Holmes wondered briefly if when chastised, their child would have the same crinkled nose and narrowed eyes as his wife. It was in that moment that he wished more than ever for a son to come from her womb. Lord knew he could barely handle this woman, but if a daughter came from her…Holmes was sure to be out numbered in everything.

"Then that is a welcome change, for it is normally you pushing me to the brink of insanity." Standing up, he held a hand out to her. "Come back to sleep." When Beth stood and reached to gather the mugs and the kettle, Holmes stopped her. "Leave it. I shall see to it later. For now, you must come back to bed and rest." He guided her out of the kitchen and back into what was now their room. Lestrade still had her apartment, as both she and Holmes had agreed it would be a good idea to have a second place to live for a time should the need ever arise, but she had, for all intents and purposes, been persuaded to move into Baker Street after their marriage.

As they got into the bed, Holmes enfolded her securely, whispering his love for her, and though Lestrade, despite her protests at being tired was asleep within a few minutes, Holmes stayed awake the rest of the morning, as was his custom when he found her taking tea in the kitchen in the middle of the night.


End file.
